The Girl in the Green Dress
by theKnowItAll
Summary: And that is how he will always remember her. Before the hate, the revenge, the killing, and the betrayal, she was just a girl in a dress. Beautiful. Simple. And maybe if she had seen him smiling back at her, she would have stayed that way ...
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: Nothing in the world of Harry Potter belongs to me, and it never will. All of you can bow down to JK. Do it. You know you want to.

_"I don't believe that anybody was born evil."- JK Rowling, World Day Book Chat, April 4, 2004_

* * *

**Prologue**

**_Her_**

* * *

I don't believe that people are born with cold hearts.

There has to be some sort of good in everyone to begin with, hasn't there? I think so. I've always thought so. I mean, if two children are born at the same time, in the same place, and yet they're separated at birth, and one is raised by a good, kind family while the other is sent to live in a house full of abuse and nasty words, then they'll turn out differently, won't they?

I think so. Then again, that is merely a hypothetical situation. Imaginary.

I like to think of myself as a good person. A little confused, yes, but good. Determined. Stubborn. Certain of what she wants. I've always been so certain that I wanted a large house, lots of children, a strong, powerful, handsome husband that loves me, and family and friends who support me.

Well, I have the house. I have the family. Funny how those two are really the least important, when you think about it. In _your_ point of view, at least.

I don't know where I went wrong, but I'm sorry for it. I'm where I always imagined myself to be – I have the house, as I said, and I have a child, and a husband, and a family, and a few friends, but … I don't know. It's not as I thought it would be. I made a mistake somewhere. I missed a step. Something went terribly, sadly wrong.

I could blame _you,_ but I won't. You don't deserve that. I believe that everyone is how they should be for a reason. Something momentous and amazing _had_ to have happened in order for them to be how they are. Does that make sense? I think it does.

I just … I wish that I could have said all of this to you before you were killed. Before you left, even. Before you were arrested. I wish you knew that I'm really not a bad person. I'm not! I refuse to be! Everyone tells me that I am, and then there's our family, telling me what a wonderful witch I am and how proud they are of me in everything that I've accomplished, but _what_ have I accomplished?

I don't know! I can't find it! I'm so lost and so confused and so determined not to break down because of it, but …

It's just so hard. Lonely. Terrible, really, and there's no fighting against it.

I know I'm not making sense. I haven't made sense for a long time. I think you've driven me mad, and I hate you for that.

Anyway, I just … I just wanted you to know all of this. To hear it, if you even can. I don't even know where you are.

And now I'm laughing, which is a little unsettling. Do you think I'm mad? You probably think I'm mad. Everyone else does, so it's all right. I'm not angry.

It's just so funny, when you think about it: _I don't even know where you are._


	2. The Spirits

Disclaimer: Still don't own any of the characters or settings. All property of the lovely Ms. Rowling.

**SPOILER WARNING: BOOK 6 SPOILERS TOWARDS THE END OF THE STORY.**

So. You know what happened to Sirius. You know what happened in his life. You know that he was in Gryffindor, that his best friends were James, Lupin, and (ew) Peter. You know that Bellatrix was the one to kill him.

But did you ever wonder **why** he was the way that he was? Whose life did he affect, besides the obvious? How did he treat his **cousins** – three young witches who turned out so differently from each other? Well, this is **my take** on it. This story consists of facts, yes, but it is largely based on my opinion. The facts are mostly the events that happened in Sirius's life, the ones we already know about. Anything that you blatantly don't recognize or have never heard of, including Sirius's unusual relationship with Narcissa and her two sisters, is solely from my imagination and predictions.

As for Narcissa – this is my take on her character. This is MY theory on why she turns out the way that she does. Enjoy it or hate it, it's your call.

And this story will progress in a **certain pattern**: I'll post two chapters for each year of Narcissa's life, starting with when she's nine. After every two chapters, there will be a sort of "modern day" chapter in which we'll see Sirius watching interactions between Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Allrighty? Yes. I believe that's all I want to say. Thanks so much for reading this story – it's one that's very dear to my heart.

In fact, this story has kept me awake for many hours, for many nights, for the better part of these last three months. I've become so attached to it that it's almost frightening, and no matter what anyone says, I will now always, _always_ have a certain place in my heart for both Sirius and Narcissa. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I've enjoyed writing it.

_"A woman's heart is an ocean of secrets."_ -_ Titanic_

* * *

**Chapter One**

**_The Spirits_**

* * *

Her mother is calling to her from downstairs. The little girl sighs. She's anxious to get back to Grimmauld Place for Christmas again. She feels more at home there than she's ever felt in her own home.

"I'm coming!" she yells back, for the fifth or sixth time. She picks up her robes so that they won't drag on the floor – they're much too long for her skinny figure – and she scurries down the hallway to Bellatrix's bedroom.

Bellatrix is standing in front of her mirror, perfecting her already perfect hair. It's dark, a stark contrast to Narcissa's brilliant white, and it is always long, smooth, and beautiful. Andromeda is in the room, too. She's only a year younger than Bellatrix, who's just turned twelve. She's the plainest of the sisters, though none of them will admit it. Her hair is only an ordinary shade of brown, like her eyes. She looks over at Narcissa when Narcissa enters the room.

"Your bow is crooked," she sighs. "Come here."

Narcissa obeys. She climbs up onto the bed in front of Andromeda, who begins to fiddle around with the bow in her younger sister's hair. "You look very pretty tonight, Bellatrix," Narcissa says.

Bellatrix continues to admire herself in the mirror. "Do you think so?"

Andromeda shoots her a glare. "You always look pretty. Don't act so surprised."

Bellatrix shrugs. "Okay. I won't." She sets her hairbrush back on her vanity table and then turns to look at her sisters. She always looks so much older and so much more important when she's looking at them, as if she's a queen observing her royal subjects. "Do you think Sirius and Regulus will be there tonight?"

Narcissa, though only being nine, and therefore inferior to her older sister's supreme knowledge of the world, lets out a condescending snort. "Of course they'll be there. It's their house."

She shrugs. "They weren't there for their parents' anniversary last year."

Andromeda finishes with the bow, slides off the bed, and then looks in the mirror to observe her own hair. "They were both sick with the measles … or maybe it was food poisoning … I don't know. Something severe enough, anyway."

Narcissa holds back a giggle. She knows what Sirius and Regulus were really doing that night, because she had been with them. Her sisters hadn't even noticed that she was gone. She and the boys been on the roof the entire time, running with their arms spread wide, pretending to be owls sent on dire missions to deliver letters being exchanged between Dumbledore and an evil villain they'd christened "Lord Darkface."

When their parents had seen all the scratches they'd gotten, Sirius and Regulus had claimed to have come down with a mysterious rash. Narcissa had been able to hide the scratches under her long dresses.

Their mother calls for them again. "Girls, if you aren't down here in thirty seconds, we're going to leave without you! And we'll throw all your presents out the window!"

The sisters exchange a worried glance.

"Do you think she means it?" Narcissa asks, very seriously.

Bellatrix laughs at her. "Really, my dear sister, you're much too gullible for your own good. She _paid_ for those presents. She wouldn't just throw them away. It would make her look bad, and we can't have her looking bad, can we?"

She doesn't know what to say, so she nods. They hurry downstairs, their fancy Christmas robes swishing around them as they go, and they meet their parents at the foot of the staircase. With one hand each touching an old book, they are off by portkey to the house of their relatives, and another Christmas begins as it always does.

There is always so much food. If Narcissa remembers nothing else about the holidays, she always remembers the food. The meat, the fruit, vegetables, potatoes in every shape, colour, and size, turkeys large enough to swallow her and her sisters whole, and desserts to dazzle the minds of even the most luxurious diner.

"What a day it will be when we all go starving!" her mother always exclaims every year.

Bellatrix, Andromeda, Narcissa, Sirius, and Regulus are at the "children's table," though none of them call it that, because that would mean admitting that they are children. Sirius is across from Narcissa, making funny faces at her as Bellatrix is talking about something dull and adult. Narcissa giggles into her goblet of juice, and she notices that the corners of Andromeda's mouth are twitching as well.

Regulus, meanwhile, is pouting. He finds his brother and cousins to be spoiled and rude; they aren't paying him enough attention. "Look at my new scar!" he orders them, sticking out his arm. "I got it when I was exploring in the attic!"

Sirius pauses in his facial contortions in order to slap his brother across the back of the head. "Don't start with that again. That isn't a scar. It's a smudge of gravy. I saw you rub it on your arm two minutes ago."

Regulus glares at his older brother, but says nothing else. He's only six, three years younger than Sirius. He's only six, but he already knows how much power Sirius has over him.

"Anyway," Sirius says, sitting back in his chair with his arms behind his head, "you're too afraid to go exploring in the attic."

"I am _not!_" he says hotly.

"Course you are," Sirius grins. "Don't blame you. It is haunted, after all."

Regulus glares shamefully at his potatoes.

"Is it really?" Narcissa asks, setting her fork aside. "It's really haunted?"

Sirius nods. "There are spirits up there."

"Are you sure they aren't just ghosts?" Andromeda asks. She isn't convinced easily about things like hauntings.

"Spirits and ghosts are the same thing," Bellatrix snaps. "Honestly, you'd think the lot of you haven't got any brains behind those thick skulls."

"They aren't the same," Sirius argues. "You can see ghosts, but you can't see spirits. And besides, ghosts are people who choose to come back to earth as ghosts. Spirits are stuck here against their will."

Bellatrix runs a hand through her hair. "And how would _you_ know?"

He shrugs. "Anyone with half a handful of common sense knows that."

Andromeda and Narcissa share a victorious glance at this insult.

Bellatrix says nothing. She falls into a spiteful silence and pretends to be listening to the conversation that's taking place at the adults' table.

"Do they talk to you?" Narcissa asks Sirius eagerly. "The spirits, I mean?"

"I think they're trying to," he says. "I mean, when I was in the attic yesterday, I kept hearing these sounds … I thought Regulus was whispering something to try to scare me."

"I was in the kitchen," Regulus pipes up excitedly, as if this proves that there _has_ to be spirits. "It wasn't me!"

"Exactly," Sirius says. "I tried talking to them, but they seemed … I don't know. Angry, I guess." His eyes are glinting mischievously. "And … can you keep a secret?"

"Of course," Narcissa says readily. "What is it?"

He glances at Andromeda. "And you?"

She nods, as willing to hear a secret as her younger sister is.

Sirius glances next at Bellatrix. She's pretending not to listen, but from the way her lips are pursed, Narcissa can tell that she's ready to catch every word Sirius will say.

"Okay," he whispers, leaning in towards the table. Narcissa, Andromeda, and Regulus lean in too, as if they are all fellow conspirators in some frightfully private scheme. "When I was talking to them," he says, eyes glinting intensely, "the entire room went cold … it was awful, I've never been so cold in my life. And … and I heard this growling … a really low, angry growling … and so … I think … I think that maybe …"

His four audience members – for now even Bellatrix is glancing sideways at him – wait in a tense silence during the climax of this confession. Sirius looks at each of them, obviously enjoying the way they're all holding their breaths in anticipation, and then he clears his throat, leans in even closer, and whispers, "I think that the spirits are evil. I think that if I hadn't left the attic when I did, they would have killed me."

Narcissa gasps, Andromeda frowns, Regulus stares, and Bellatrix snorts. "You can't be serious," she says to him, looking as if she's never met anyone more stupid in her entire life.

"Actually, last time I checked my birth certificate, I _was_ Sirius," he says coolly.

Narcissa, still in shock from his confession, doesn't giggle like she normally would. "Evil spirits? Trying to kill you? Do you think they're after your entire family? Do you think they'll sneak down from the attic into the house? Into your bedroom? Do your parents – "

Sirius holds up his hands, grinning. "Don't worry, I'm sure they'll stay in the attic. Spirits don't really like to wander around."

"How do you know?"

"I just know," he says, and that settles the matter. Narcissa always trusts his knowledge. He always seems to know so much that she's never even heard of or considered. "If you're really interested, we could go up and see them. That is, if you're brave enough."

She shivers, and her stomach is fluttering. "Of course I'm brave enough."

He seems impressed. "Really? You aren't afraid?"

She shakes her head. "Why would I be afraid?"

He shrugs. "You're a girl."

Bellatrix snorts again. "You have a lot to learn about girls if that's your opinion, my dear cousin." She pushes her plate aside. "Anyway, if there really _are_ spirits in the world, then they wouldn't be in _your _attic. Our family is practically royalty – your mother even says so, almost everyday."

"Parents don't know everything," he says, snorting.

"Don't interrupt me," she snaps. "Now listen, if there really are evil spirits in the world, they'd be attacking somebody who's actually worth attacking, like … I don't know. Mudbloods. Muggleborns. Commoners. _Those_ types of people."

"Don't call them that!" Andromeda says. Her cheeks are red. She's only eleven, but she has enough sense to be angry. "You're so prejudiced, Bellatrix."

Bellatrix doesn't even flinch. "And _you,_ my dear sister, have been listening to one too many of Dumbledore's speeches. Merlin, that man is irritating. He thinks he knows _everything_."

Regulus perks up at this. "I've heard that he treats mudbloods like any other witch or wizard. As if they're equal to us, or something."

"They _are_ equal to us," Andromeda says fiercely. "And you're only six – what do _you _know? If a witch marries a muggle, or a wizard marries a muggle, they shouldn't be hated, scorned, _disowned._ They're just not as magical as we are, that's all. It's not a crime."

Bellatrix laughs at her. "Andromeda, really, you don't know what you're talking about. And those sleeves! Look at them! You're getting them in your food! Really, sometimes I marvel at how much of a pig you are!"

"Get over it," Sirius tells Bellatrix with a grin. He leans back in his chair, hands behind his head. Always so confident.

Bellatrix turns up her nose at him. "You all are _such_ children, I hope you know that."

Sirius salutes her, still grinning. She glares at him, stands, throws her dark hair over her shoulder, and retreats like a queen to the kitchen.

Sirius laughs at her after she's gone. Narcissa asks him why, and he says, "I hid a frog under her pillow tonight."

Andromeda, Narcissa, and Regulus all laugh with him until the adults scold them. _If you're going to be loud, you might as well go upstairs_, say their glares. And so up the stairs the children go.

It's quiet and dark upstairs, and Narcissa really wants to go explore the attic. "I want to see the spirits," she whispers to Sirius, when Andromeda and Regulus aren't looking.

He frowns. "You can't _see_ spirits."

"Well then I want to hear them, like you did."

He nods. Then he grins. His eyes are twinkling again. "I know. Look, I think it'll be better if we go in the middle of the night, when everyone else is asleep. Then we can stay up there for as long as want, and no one will notice we're gone. Plus, I don't think the spirits will be expecting us then. Maybe we can take them by surprise – it can be like a surprise attack!"

Andromeda glances over her shoulder at them. She's playing chess with Regulus, even though he isn't very good at it. Sirius pauses. Andromeda looks back at the game again, Sirius takes a breath, and then he lowers his voice. He continues. "Meet me by the attic stairs as soon as both of your sisters are asleep. I'll be there already – Regulus always falls asleep fast. He's such a baby."

She grins with the excitement of their secret scheme. "Should I bring anything?"

He shrugs. "Do you have a candlestick in your room?"

She nods.

"Bring that. You know – just in case. We don't know what these spirits are up to, so we should have some sort of weapon."

"You can't hit a spirit with a candlestick," she says, though she's only guessing. She's never met a spirit before, like he has.

He shrugs again. "Spirits are afraid of light. If we get scared, we'll just light the candle."

"Okay," she says, shaking from the excitement of it all. "I'll be there."

"You'd better be," he grins. "I'd hate to face those spirits alone again. Who knows what they'd do to me?"

"You aren't afraid?" she asks unbelievingly.

He looks offended by this question. "Afraid? Me? Narcissa, it takes a lot more than a few spirits to scare me."

She grins, her own fears eased by this. "Me too."

"What on earth are you two conspiring about now?" Andromeda asks them.

"Conspiring?" Sirius repeats, feigning offense once again. "We never conspire. How could you even _think_ such a thing?"

Narcissa smiles at him, and he winks at her. They have a special alliance, and no one else besides them even suspects a thing.


	3. The Night

Disclaimer: Chapter Two of this madness still doesn't completely belong to me, thanks to the mistress of all things HP, Miss Rowling.

Sorry, but I forgot to mention something before. This story follows along closely with the one-shot I wrote called "The Noble and Most Ancient History of Black." It doesn't follow it _exactly,_ but closely enough. So … yes. Onward we go.

_"I am not worried, Harry. I am with you." -Dumbledore, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince_

**Chapter Two**  
_**The Night**_

* * *

The night progresses in seconds that seem to take hours. Her sisters move much too slowly for her liking.

"Bellatrix, haven't you brushed your hair enough? Andromeda, you've already read that book three times."

Her sisters raise their eyebrows at her. "Narcissa," says Andromeda, "what are you so anxious for?"

"Nothing," she snaps as much as her nine-year-old courtesy will allow. "Nothing. I'm just tired. I want to go to sleep."

They shrug at each other, and then at their sister, but they relent, and they crawl into their beds. Bellatrix is yawning as she says, "You know, Narcissa, you're really getting too bossy for your own good. You'd better watch out, or one of us is going to slap you one of these days."

"_I_ will never slap you," Andromeda promises, grinning before she turns out the light.

"Then _I_ will," Bellatrix says, settling the matter. She turns out her own light.

Narcissa is already lying down, eyes closed, blankets pulled up to her chin. She's far from tired. Her fingers are cold as they hold onto the blankets and her toes are trembling, anxious to get out of that bed and onto the pathway to the night's adventure. She keeps her ears alert for the first few minutes, listening for the sounds of her sisters' deep breathing.

For a while, she only hears Andromeda's tossing and turning.

Then, after what seems like lifetimes, Bellatrix is the first to fall asleep. Her snores normally would have made Narcissa giggle herself giddy, but not on this night. On this night, Narcissa is too anxious with anticipation to be giddy. She can feel her forehead growing damp. The blankets are much too warm.

Suddenly, she hears it. The steady breathing. Andromeda has fallen asleep. Narcissa decides, against her body's wishes, to wait a few more minutes in order to let her sisters sink more deeply into their sleep.

She counts the patches on her bedspread. She tries to see how many different cracks there are in the wall. She looks at the clock.

Only a minute has passed.

She silently plans her outfit for the next day. She imagines what Hogwarts is like; what she'll look like in her uniform, and who she'll meet, and what house she'll be in, though she already knows that it's Slytherin. She wonders what kinds of things she and Sirius will do once they've been sorted into their house. Will they still be friends? Will they go looking for evil spirits in the middle of the night?

She shudders. Another look at the clock. Four more minutes have passed, and she decides that it has been more than long enough. So quietly that she even surprises herself, she slides out from her blankets and sets her toes on the floor. It's already freezing cold. She slips her feet into her slippers. She is ready.

Silently, she tiptoes past her sleeping sisters. Bellatrix is having a muted conversation with herself, and beneath closed eyelids her eyes are moving back and forth, all around, this way and that. She looks possessed. Narcissa looks away. She can't afford to be frightened by anything.

The hallway is dark and silent. Eerie shadows seem to dance along the walls, though there is no faint source of light to produce them. Narcissa feels the scrutiny of a thousand invisible eyes watching her every step. They're waiting to pounce on her. She shudders as she hurries down the hallway, candlestick in hand, raised ever so slightly just in case she needs to attack at random.

She sees the staircase at the end of the hall, though it's too dark to see if Sirius is there already. He said that he _would_ be there, but in Narcissa's mind, anything could go wrong. Maybe the spirits had sneaked down the stairs and captured him! Maybe it had all been a trick, and he wasn't really planning on coming to meet her. He is her friend, yes, but he loves playing tricks, and he'll gladly take anyone as victim.

She arrives at the stairs. She stops. She looks around. She is wondering if she should have enough daring to say his name when suddenly, out of the blunt darkness, she hears his whisper.

"So, you came?"

She spins around, candlestick raised, only to see him sitting, legs crossed, on the fourth stair. He's grinning, and even in the darkness, his eyes are glinting brilliantly, as they always are.

She nods, unable to say anything else. She lowers the candlestick.

"Are you ready?" he asks her.

She nods again.

"Scared?"

She shakes her head.

"Have you taken a vow of silence or something?"

"Be quiet," she hisses. "They'll hear you."

He shakes his head, still grinning. "They never hear anything. Come on."

He rises, turns, and slowly crawls up the stairs, still on all fours. Narcissa looks behind her. All she sees is darkness. She turns back. She gets on the staircase behind Sirius, and she too begins to crawl up it.

The door to the attic is shut tightly when they reach the top. She's about to ask him if he has a key, when he suddenly pulls something out of his pocket.

"What is that?"

"A hairpin," he hisses. "I took it from Bellatrix's table after I hid the frog under her pillow." He pauses. "Did she find it yet?"

She shakes her head.

He frowns. "Weird. Maybe the weight of her fat head suffocated it."

"Probably," she agrees, stifling a giggle.

Sirius gets to work on the door handle. He sticks the hairpin this way and that, turning and twisting and cursing at the thing, until finally he sits back on his heels, wipes the perspiration from his forehead, and sighs. "It's open."

"I hope the spirits didn't hear you," Narcissa whispers worriedly.

He pats her on the shoulder. "Don't worry so much. It'll be fine. Just stay right next to me, or else they might – you know. I don't know. We don't know what exactly they're up to."

"Okay," she says. It's barely a whisper.

He opens the door. He doesn't even do it slowly, cautiously. He just opens it. It doesn't creak, but it's a sudden movement all the same. So silently that it hurts, they peek their heads around the door's frame and look into the attic. It's old, dusty, and, Narcissa notices immediately, smelly. It stinks of old socks, expired perfume, rotten books, half-finished meals that have been sitting in the dankness for too many hours. The ceiling is low and looks as though nature has been eating away at it. A bite here, a nibble there, and it won't be long before the entire thing collapses. Boxes, books, a few old armchairs, half of a sofa that must have once been beautiful, and a cracked mirror clutter the area and rest under a blanket of dust and mold.

Narcissa looks at Sirius. He's looking towards the mirror, so she looks there too.

She sees nothing but the mirror, but he's staring intently at it.

He puts his mouth very close to her ear and whispers, "Come on. Be very, _very_ quiet, or else they'll see us."

She nods. She holds her breath. Sirius slowly begins to crawl towards the mirror, all the while making certain that he's hidden from its view by a box or an armchair. Narcissa follows closely behind him. Her nightgown is probably getting filthy, but she doesn't care. She's too frightened to care, though she'll never admit that to Sirius.

He suddenly stops. He crouches very low behind a large box and motions for her to follow him. She crouches so low beside him that their heads are almost touching the floor. She's going to ask him what he's doing, but then she hears it. She slaps a hand to her mouth to keep from screaming.

It's a low, rumbling, hungry sort of growl. It chills Narcissa all the way through her nightgown, all the way through her skin, all the way to her bones. Her blood freezes in place and at once she feels dizzy and freezing and terrified all at once.

The growl becomes louder, and now it sounds like whoever's making it is trying to form words.

Narcissa grabs Sirius's hand and holds it as tightly as she possibly can. He looks sideways at her, sees how frightened she is, and whispers, "We need to get closer to the mirror."

She nods, though getting closer to the mirror is the last thing on earth that she wants to be doing. Still holding her hand, Sirius scoots forward towards the box next to them. They continue like this, scooting from box to box, being very careful to stay hidden at all times.

Narcissa can hardly breathe. Her heart is racing. Her head is dizzy.

"Sirius," she whispers, but he covers her mouth so that she can't speak.

He shakes his head. No, Don't Talk. She nods. Okay, I Won't. He drops his hand. He's still got her hand in his other one.

The growling suddenly stops. Sirius and Narcissa freeze. The entire room has gotten colder and colder with every step they've taken towards the mirror. Sirius crouches down lower, and Narcissa looks at him, thinking that he knows something terrible is about to happen. His face is very close to hers; their cheeks brush against each other. Cold against cold. White against white.

White faces staring out from panicking Black hearts.

Sirius lets go of her hand. "Okay," he whispers, getting on all fours, looking quite like a cat ready to pounce, "I'm going to run."

Narcissa stares at him. "Run? Run _where?_"

"To the mirror," he says breathlessly. "That's where they're hiding."

"How do you know?"

He looks at her. "I just know."

She nods, but she's holding tightly onto his arm. She's afraid to let him go.

But then he grins at her. "They're just spirits," he whispers. "Evil or not, they're just … air."

She lets go.

He runs. He runs as if he's being hunted by murderers. He sprints out into the middle of the attic, holding Narcissa's candlestick out in front him, heading straight for the mirror. Until now, she'd forgotten about that candlestick.

He stops, as suddenly as he started, right in front of the mirror. He stares at it. Narcissa is at an awkward angle; she can't see his reflection. She doesn't dare call out for him, and even if she dares to, she won't be able to. Her voice is caught somewhere it shouldn't be. It's not in her throat, and she can't seem to find it.

Sirius is staring at the mirror.

Narcissa leans as far around the corner of her hideaway as she dares. Now she can see clearly that Sirius isn't looking at the mirror. He's looking at something on the wall right next to it. Or maybe behind it. Or …

There is an enormous rush of wind, air, or something alive and invisible. Narcissa can't help herself – she screams. Her nightgown is billowing around her and her head is filling with sounds like growling, hissing, wailing, and moaning all mixed together in some sort of symphony for the wounded, and her eyes are shut tightly, so she can't see anything.

At once, Sirius is with her. He doesn't take her hand this time, but takes her, all of her, shoulders and knees and all, under one of his arms. He spins her around, so that they're facing the attic door, and he's about to say something, but –

The door slams. The howling is unbearable. It's all Narcissa can hear. She's on the ground, under Sirius's arm, and she can't tell if she's screaming too, but now the door is closed, and they're trapped, and the spirits are yelling for their souls and they are never, ever going to make it out alive, and if they do, then –

There is a creaking behind them. Narcissa is first to spin around but Sirius is now looking too, and both of them are staring with wide eyes at the bookshelf standing high above their heads.

It's beginning to fall.

The wind is still blowing, and the bookshelf is about to fall.

Narcissa finally finds her voice, though it's a hoarse, unfamiliar one. "They're trying to kill us!" she screams. "The spirits are trying to kill us!"

"No!" Sirius says back. It sounds like he's whispering, even though the room around them is so loud. "No, they – "

The bookcase is swaying. Narcissa watches it, almost in a trance, as it begins to fall towards them.

"We did something wrong!" she yells. "We made them angry!"

"Move!" Sirius barks.

But she doesn't even need to. She's still under his arm and when he dives, he pulls her with him. They roll across the attic's dusty floor until they slam against a very hard box. She screams and he yelps, and they wait in silence until –

The bookshelf crashes. It crashes so loudly that Narcissa fears the entire house has heard them and will think the world is coming to an end.

"Come on," Sirius says, rubbing the back of his head, "we've got to get out of here."

"But the spirits!" says Narcissa. "Did you see them?" This is suddenly very important.

He doesn't answer her. He gets to his feet. He grabs her arm. He starts to drag her towards the door just as the voices begin.

"What was that?"

"Someone was screaming!"

"There must be a thief in the house!"

"The children! Get to the children!"

Sirius and Narcissa look at each other in pure terror. They've been discovered.

"Quick," Sirius says, "quick, now, we've got to get out of here!"

"The door!" Narcissa shrieks. They're standing in front of it. "The door is locked!"

Sirius tries the doorknob. She's right, it's locked. He spins around, sees a large, silver-tipped cane, and grabs it. He begins to beat it against the door.

After only a few minutes, the doorknob breaks off, taking the lock along with it. Sirius sticks his fingers through the new hole in the door and pulls the door open. He pushes Narcissa out in front of him and then tumbles out of the attic himself, and both of them land in a panting, ruffled, completely dazed heap at the foot of the staircase.

Everyone else is in the hallway, too, but none of them notice the clumsy entrance of the two young adventurers. They're all looking at Bellatrix. She's standing in the middle of them, hair coming down from its elegant nightly bun, crying as if the world has come crashing down on her.

"Under – my – pillow!" she screams between sobs. Her shoulders are shaking and her face is buried in her hands.

Andromeda is standing in the doorway, sleepy-eyed and annoyed. "Mummy, can I go back to sleep now?" she asks groggily, rubbing her eyes.

Her mother ignores her. "Bellatrix, my dear, I can't understand a word you've said! Why on earth were you screaming? Are you ill? Was it a nightmare?"

It seems to take Bellatrix great pains just to shake her head. "An … an … an _animal!_"

Aunt Elladora is still in her jewelry. Her crystal necklace forms a ridiculous match to her antique nightdress. She laughs. "Absurd! I do believe your daughter is imagining things! Come now, let's all get back to bed – "

"A frog!" Bellatrix gasps, her sobbing decreasing noticeably. She's angry now. "_Someone_ put a _frog_ under my _pillow_!"

"It was actually a toad," Sirius speaks up.

All eyes turn towards him. If anyone notices the state of his and Narcissa's hair and nightclothes, they don't say anything about it.

"I saw Regulus do it," he goes on, shrugging.

Narcissa glances around. Regulus isn't there. He's probably still asleep, though that doesn't matter, because what does matter is that he's absent, and an absence from such an important event such as this only signals one thing: guilt.

"Oh, he'll get it in the morning, that boy will!" Sirius's mother hisses. "Stupid, silly, spoiled boy – takes after his brother!"

"Who takes after his parents," Sirius adds.

His mother, luckily, doesn't hear him.

"Where is the animal now, dear?" Aunt Elladora asks.

Bellatrix looks fearfully towards the doorway of her room. Andromeda is still standing there, though she's leaning against the wall, snoring rather loudly.

"I killed it," Bellatrix sniffs dramatically. "With – " a gasp "my – " another gasp "slipper."

Narcissa and Sirius can't help themselves. They begin to giggle furiously into their hands.

The adults sigh. They look at each other, shake their heads irritably, and trudge wearily back to their beds. Andromeda retreats back into the room gratefully, looking almost half-asleep as she goes. Bellatrix is wide awake and pouting but, once she sees she won't be getting any sympathy, she too returns to her room, and she shuts the door tightly behind her.

Sirius and Narcissa are left alone in the dark corridor. Sirius is laughing so hard now that he's almost suffocating. "They didn't even know we did anything! They'll never know, those half-wits!"

Narcissa is giggling, too. "But Sirius," she asks, failing miserably at catching her breath as another round of giggling overtakes her, "Sirius … what about the spirits? Where were they?"

This only makes him laugh harder. "There weren't any!"

"What? None at all? How do you know?"

"There's a window behind the mirror," he practically roars. "It was hanging wide open! All of the air, all of the noises, everything … it was all the wind!"

If a passerby were to suddenly see the two children, he or she would assume that one of them had said the funniest joke ever heard by mankind.

Sirius and Narcissa sink to the floor, arms around their middles, each trying to soothe a stomachache of mirth. "There weren't any spirits?" Narcissa breathes, cheeks furiously red from all of her laughter.

Sirius shakes his head. "None."

Narcissa suddenly has a sobering thought, but she doesn't stop smiling. "Sirius?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you think that means we could go get my candlestick back?"

There is a pause.

"Well," he grins, "maybe we should just forget about the attic. Stay clear of it. You know … just in case."

She looks at him. "In case of what?"

He looks at her. "We know there aren't any spirits, but … who knows what else could be up there?"

And he really has a very good point.


	4. Interlude the First

Disclaimer: I own nothing of the brilliance. _Nothing._ In italics.

A very brief chapter, but hey, sometimes the shortest are the sweetest, yes? And the followingquote is also very brief, but I mean ... think about what it says for a minute. It's deep. Profound. Meaningful.

Lord, I _need _sleep.

_"I'm not changed, but I know I'm not the same." - "One Headlight," by the Wallflowers_

**Interlude the First**  
_Him_

* * *

_December, 1995_

Christmas again, but now there are different people at Grimmauld Place. _He's_ still there, yes, but _she_ isn't. No one else in the family is there. It's been almost twenty years since he left them, anyway.

Twenty years, and now he's standing in the kitchen doorway once again. He glances at the two children standing by the fireplace. They aren't really children, but he likes to think of them as such. Neither of them, however, have really been children since their first year at Hogwarts.

One is a girl, fifteen, with brown hair and brown eyes and a head much too small to contain everything that she knows. "Harry," she sighs, "let's just try it one more time, all right? Once more, then we can take a break. You've almost got it."

The boy massages his forehead. "Hermione, look, I'm grateful that you're trying to help me, but maybe I just can't do this – "

"Everyone can do it, Harry," she laughs. "Come on, once more. Give me your hands."

Somewhat awkwardly, he takes one of her hands in his and then puts the other on her back.

She arches an eyebrow. "Aren't you going to come a bit closer? I won't bite, you know."

Laughing a little, he takes a step closer.

"Good," she says, very professionally. "And now my hand goes here – " she rests it lightly on his shoulder – "and now – step one, two, three, four …"

They move slowly, mechanically, across the floor.

"And now spin me once," she commands.

He spins her out, then in, then they're doing the steps again, one, two, three, four, then another spin, and then –

"Sorry!"

They both stumble sideways; Harry lands on the floor on his bottom.

Hermione laughs at him, catching her balance on one of the armchairs. "Harry! Honestly, you're hopeless! You've stepped on my feet nearly every time!"

"This is a lot harder than it looks," Harry grumbles, standing and dusting himself off. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'll go upstairs and … and … play a game of exploding snap with Ron, or … I don't know … do something that I can actually _do._"

She laughs again. "I don't understand why you can't do it now. You and Cho were dancing quite well at the ball last year."

"That's because we were both making it up."

"Dancing is a very useful skill, you know. Helga Hufflepuff said that she wouldn't be half the witch she was if she'd never learned to dance."

"Good for her."

"Oh Harry, stop being so reproachful. You'll get it right."

"Hermione, I really don't care if I know how to dance or not."

"Yes you do."

"I really don't."

"Yes, you _do._"

"No, I _don't._"

"Of course you do, Harry," muses the observer in the doorway.

The two friends both jump, startled at this new presence. Once Harry sees who it is, however, he rubs his forehead again and sighs, "Hello, Sirius. Come to watch me make a fool of myself, have you?"

The man grins. "What can I say – it makes _me_ look like less of a fool." He sets his cup of tea aside. "Now … wait a minute. There's one of you missing. Where's Ron?"

The two friends exchange a glance. "Upstairs," Harry says quietly. "He, Ginny, Fred, and George. I think they're spending a bit of time with Mrs. Weasley. They're all still a bit … you know." He shifts uncomfortably. "This whole thing with their dad really scared them."

Hermione nods sadly. "Ginny really thought that he was going to die."

Harry sighs. "So did Ron."

Sirius looks between the two of them. "So … they're all upstairs relaxing, shall we say, and you two are down here … _dancing._"

"It was _her_ idea," Harry says at once. "I wanted nothing to do with this."

"Oh come on, Harry, you don't hate it _that _much."

Harry snorts. "Yes, actually, I _do_ hate it. It's a bit difficult to like something when you're terrible at it."

Hermione shakes her head hopelessly at him. Sirius, however, grins deviously. He takes another sip of tea, discards his cup on the table, and then approaches Hermione with a distinct gleam in his eyes. "Here," he says, offering his hand. "Let's show Harry how it's done, shall we?"

Hermione takes a step back, looking embarrassed. "Sorry?"

Sirius laughs. It's a bark-like laugh. Like it always used to be. "Don't look so shocked. Maybe Harry doesn't know the first thing about dancing, but I certainly do."

Exchanging a bemused glance with Harry, Hermione hesitantly places her hand in Sirius's.

"Now then," he grins, eyes still twinkling, "aren't you going to come a bit closer? I won't bite, you know."

She grins now too, recognizing that she spoke these very words only moments before. She takes a step closer, places her other hand on Sirius's shoulder while he rests a hand lightly on her back, and then they take a step to the side. In perfect unison.

Hermione lets out a delighted laugh as they continue the dance. "Well done, Sirius! You see, Harry? You see how he's leading?"

Harry shakes his head at the two of them, though he's also grinning. "Fine, fine, you've shown me – go on and gloat about it."

"You hear that, Hermione? The boy has given us permission to gloat!"

Hermione laughs again, and Sirius spins her around twice. "Then gloat we shall!"

The two of them dance a magnificent waltz all around the room – they go in circles around Harry, around the couch, across the hearth, into the kitchen and back towards the stairs, with Hermione laughing and Sirius chuckling the entire way.

"This is the way to dance, Harry!" Hermione says in a very giddy, very un-Hermione-like fashion. "Sirius, where on earth did you learn how to dance like this?"

"A girl I used to know!" Sirius barks, spinning Hermione again. "A very special girl, Hermione!"

Hermione makes eye contact with him for the slightest possible second – it's so fleeting that in one blink she's looking away, laughing again – but in that one, brief glance, with her eyes twinkling as deviously as his, a memory shoots itself before his eyes, blurring his vision …

_Sirius leads Narcissa out into the middle of the magnificent room, and he takes one of her hands awkwardly up in his own, then hesitates, unsure of where to put his other hand._

_"On my back," Narcissa whispers, giggling. _

_Sirius does so, and Narcissa thinks she sees him blushing. He confirms his embarrassment when he glances to either side of him and whispers, "I don't really know how to dance."_

_"Then I will teach you," she says back. "Andromeda has been teaching me."_

"A girl?" Hermione inquires merrily. "And what was this special girl's name?"

Sirius snaps back to reality. He abruptly stops dancing, so abruptly that Hermione runs straight into him and then stumbles to the side. He gives her a hand to steady herself, then quickly steps back and puts his hands to his eyes, rubbing them fiercely to rid those images of long ago from his mind …

"Sirius?"

His eyes snap open. He lowers his hands. She's staring at him, befuddled.

"Are you all right?"

"Fine," he says automatically. "I'm fine, yes – perfect. Good. I just – you – you really – "

She offers a smile, waiting for him to finish. "Yes?"

He looks at her helplessly. "You really remind me of someone."

"The someone that taught you how to dance?"

Sirius nods.

Hermione isn't smiling anymore. "And you … you didn't really want to be reminded of her, did you?"

"Forget it," Sirius grins, looking like himself again. "You simply startled me for a minute there. Now you and Harry get back to work. Harry, mate – "

Harry looks up.

Sirius chuckles. "Try not to break her toes, will you?"

He then turns, leaves the room, closes the kitchen door behind him, and sinks silently to the floor where no one can see him. "You're haunting me," he whispers, burying his face in his hands and rocking pitifully back and forth. "_Why are you haunting me?"_


	5. The Games

Disclaimer: Still not mine.

If you have not seen A Beautiful Mind, shame on you. Shame. Anyway, that's not the point of this update. How about I answer a few of your questions? That's always fun. Here we go: 1. I'm writing this story in the present tense because that's just how it came out when I started writing it. Really. I just started off in the present tense and it suddenly felt right – it gives the story a slightly ongoing feel. And now that I've written so much of it in the present, I can't even imagine it in the past tense. It just wouldn't seem the same. 2. Well, you'll have to keep reading to see if Sirius is in love with Narcissa, won't you? If you're a close reader, or if you're just creepily talented at reading human emotions, you'll be able to figure it out. 3. WHERE IS IAIN? 4. Kevikins, neither my AIM nor my email has been working properly as of late. Sorry. You know how it goes with technology sometimes.

Enjoy.

_"** '**How big is the universe?'  
'Infinite.'  
'How do you know?'  
'I know because all the data indicates it's infinite.'  
'But it hasn't been proven yet.'  
''No.'  
'You haven't seen it.'  
'No.'  
'How do you know for sure?'  
'I don't, I just believe it.'  
'It's the same with love, I guess.'" – A Beautiful Mind_

**Chapter Three**  
**_The Games_**

* * *

Nearly a year passes. Sirius and Narcissa are ten, and it's late October. It's snowing outside, though the conversation indoors isn't a degree warmer than the frost. The two young cousins are playing chess while their mothers, along with Aunt Elladora, are all deeply immersed in one of their usual discussions.

"It's the principal of the thing," Mrs. Black is saying harshly. "Our family has always been prominent, successful, and wealthy, and I won't have our good name spoiled by one young hotshot Auror who thinks he can put us in our place. We're practically royalty compared to him, for Merlin's sake! A blind man could see that!"

"Of course," says Narcissa's mother absently, holding her knitting up to the window to get a better view of it. "It's natural that you should be offended, my dear sister, but really – don't waste your sentiments on one such man as … as … what was his name, again?"

"Alastor something," Mrs. Black says stiffly. She looks as though she has a foul stench under her nostrils. "New to the Ministry. Freshly trained Auror – and pure _scum_, if you ask me."

"Which no one did," Sirius mumbles.

Narcissa tries very hard not to smirk.

"It's all in the breeding, I say," Aunt Elladora decides. "You see, with us pure-bloods, there isn't room to err. Our blood is purely magical, through and through. However, once you've got the muggleborns concerned, things get confusing. They don't know their wands from their toes, I say. Their hearts aren't fully into what they learn at Hogwarts, or Durmstrang, or wherever they end up. Fools, I say, without exception."

"They get strange ideas in their heads," Mrs. Black agrees. "They claim to be equal to us, when they can't even trace their own lineage back to last year. I mean, the sheer nonsense of the idea! Think of our family, for instance – we can trace it back generations and generations, and it's been fully pure-blood ever since the first Black set foot on this earth. And then you've got a muggleborn with a witch for a mother and a stupid muggle man for a father, and then that muggleborn claims to be equal to us. The muggle and wizarding worlds mustn't collide in such a way. It would be funny if it weren't such a horrifying thought."

"It's a good thing we've got our children off to a decent start," says Narcissa's mother, glancing at her daughter and Sirius as she speaks. "I received letters from both Bellatrix and Andromeda yesterday. They're doing well in school … they simply love their housemates."

"But of course," Aunt Elladora snorts. "Slytherin house is certainly the most harmonious of the houses. It always maintains one belief, and one belief only, and that is the belief in the pure-blood, truly magical race."

Narcissa glances at her mother and smiles. "I cannot wait to be sorted into Slytherin, mother."

Her mother looks as though she might faint with pride. "You see?" she says to her sisters, clapping her hands together, completely forgetting about her knitting. "Look at her – so young, yet so eager to continue our family's traditions!"

"And you?" Mrs. Black says, casting a look at Sirius. "Are you as eager as your cousin?"

"Of course," he says, and Narcissa sees, to her surprise, that he means it. He usually reserves sarcasm for his mother. "The sooner I get sorted into Slytherin, the sooner I can become the most powerful wizard that our family has ever seen." His eyes are glinting hungrily, as though he can already taste the power that he speaks of.

Mrs. Black laughs a somewhat manic laugh. "But of course! That's my dear boy, always looking to outdo everyone around him."

Sirius shrugs absently, nonplussed by this phrase. He looks at Narcissa, and the women fall back into their own conversations. "Do you want to go upstairs?"

"Isn't Regulus asleep?"

He shrugs again. "He sleeps through anything."

Narcissa agrees to go, and they quietly take leave of the adults. They scurry up the stairs to Sirius's room where it's quiet and they can be alone, left to their own imaginations.

"So," Sirius says, plopping down on his bed. He brushes his hair out of his eyes. "Where did we leave off last time?"

Narcissa frowns, trying to remember. "I think we had just eaten our annual feast, and we were about to go to our annual ball."

It is a game they've been playing for three years. He is King of Slytherin while she is his Queen, and Slytherin is the name they have given to their empire. Their game is endless – it continues on each time they meet – which is usually only six or seven times each year – and they always simply pick up right where they left off before. Simple. Continuous. Secret.

"Oh … I think you're right," Sirius says. He hops back off the bed and goes over to his closet, where they keep all of their props. He pulls out two crowns and tosses one to her. Her hair is back in a braid, so she pulls it apart and fluffs it all out before settling the crown on top of it. It's a deep gold, a few shades darker than her hair.

Sirius clears his throat, straightens his back, and sticks out his arm. "Well, my dear queen," he says, voice lowered for a dramatic, kingly effect, "shall we proceed to the ball? I do believe we've kept our loyal subjects waiting long enough."

"Certainly, my king," she says, lips pursed and chin raised. It's what her mother always does when she wants to seem very important. She loops her arm around Sirius's and together they stride out of his bedroom.

Before their imaginative eyes, the corridor becomes a crowded street, filled on either side with adoring witches and wizards, all of them dressed in flowing robes, all of them talking eagerly or bowing respectfully, all of them the type of loyal subjects that any king or queen would desire.

"It's certainly a lovely evening for a ball," Narcissa remarks, nodding respectfully at a few witches as she and Sirius walk down the corridor.

"And you, my dear queen, only make it lovelier," Sirius replies, casting her a smirk.

She elbows him. She hates his smart remarks.

"Ah, here we are," Sirius says, looking from her to the room before them.

But it isn't a room. It's a wonderful building, at least ten stories high, with lights all around it and wonderful fountains on either side. The staircases wrap around the sides and end in front of them like two serpents caught in a dance. Sirius and Narcissa smile at each other, then step forward into their magnificent ballroom.

The music is most striking at first. Music that sweeps up the golden walls, along the smooth golden floor, around and within the crystal chandelier above their heads, everywhere, music that envelops them with a sudden rush as they enter. The ceiling is painted with scenes that move gently, slowly, as if under a mystifying and beautiful trance. Candles have been charmed to float hazily near the ceiling, shedding a dim and flickering glow across the faces of those dancing solemnly below.

Sirius leads Narcissa out into the middle of the magnificent room, and he takes one of her hands awkwardly up in his own, then hesitates, unsure of where to put his other hand.

"On my back," Narcissa whispers, giggling. She catches herself quickly and turns her giggles into a smile – queens never giggle.

Sirius does so, and Narcissa thinks she sees him blushing. He confirms his embarrassment when he glances to either side of him, making sure that none of his subjects can hear him, and whispers, "I don't really know how to dance."

"Then I will teach you," she says back. "Lady Andromeda has been teaching me."

She tells him to take a step to the side, and then one back, and to the side again. He's looking down at his feet, but she makes him look up. "You have to look at me," she tells him. "Lady Bellatrix says that if a man can't look at a woman in the eyes, he isn't worthy of her."

Sirius accidentally steps on her gown, and both of them stumble a bit. Sirius looks annoyed, but Narcissa smiles. "This is so hard!" he hisses. "How do people actually do this?"

She shrugs. "Practice, I guess. Come on, give me a spin."

He spins her, and her gown flows out all around her, and now both of them are smiling. "You see?" she says. "That part wasn't hard."

His grin widens.

They dance all across the floor, back and forth and everywhere in between, until Narcissa has twirled herself dizzy. Sirius doesn't want to stop – he's only just perfected the dance steps, and now he's dancing as though he's done so professionally for his entire life. He spins Narcissa again and she stumbles, falls, and lands squarely on her bottom in the middle of the floor.

She laughs as one caught in a frenzied daze would laugh. "I need to rest for a minute. Everything is spinning."

"I like that dance," Sirius says, slumping onto the floor beside her. They are themselves again. The room has turned back into a spare bedroom, the walls have shed their golden hue, the music has dissolved into the sounds of nature outside the window, and the ceiling is as motionless as it ever was.

"I'm going to be a powerful witch," Narcissa sighs happily. "Then I can do things like this all the time."

Sirius grins. "Just don't forget me when you're off living in some mansion, with servants waiting on you hand and foot, and people adoring you everywhere." His tone is mocking, though not harsh.

She laughs. "Don't worry, you'll have your own special room for whenever you'd like to visit me. I'm sure my husband wouldn't mind."

He wrinkles his nose. "You want to get married?"

"Of course," she says, in a voice that sounds suspiciously like her mother's. "I'm going to marry a handsome, funny, kind man – pure-blood, of course – who will make me happy, and we'll be rich, and we'll live together in our mansion for as long as we want."

Sirius shrugs. "There are other ways to be happy."

"You don't want to get married?" She's surprised.

He shrugs again. "Maybe. I just want to be powerful, whatever happens. You know, like when we're playing our game, when you're a queen and I'm a king – I want it to be like that. Kings are always happy."

Narcissa frowns. "You're right. I hope my husband is powerful."

"Your husband? Don't _you_ want to have any power?"

She seems frightened by the thought of it. "I don't know … it's usually the wizards who have most of the power, isn't it? That's the usual thing."

"Yes, but, _you_ aren't very usual," he grins.

She elbows him.

"Hey," he laughs, "I meant it as a compliment."

"So you're saying it's a good thing that I'm unusual?"

He laughs again. "I, personally, happen to _like_ unusual people."

She's laughing now, too. "Well, in that case, you must practically _adore_ yourself."


	6. The Courtship

Disclaimer: Still not mine, regretfully.

Sorry this took so long. School started. You know how it is.  
On the bright side, because there is always a bright side, this is one of my favorite chapters ... guess who shows up!

_I promise I will be forever yours  
__I promise not to say another word  
__Never you mind, what's done is done  
__I always was the lucky one  
__-"Still," Foo Fighters_

**Chapter Four**  
**_The Courtship_**

* * *

Two months pass, and it's Christmas again. Sirius and Narcissa are still ten. Everyone is at Grimmauld Place again, although there are three unfamiliar people also present, and these strangers catch Narcissa's eye as soon as she arrives. She and her sisters exchange a glance, then hurry over into a corner where they can be hidden from view, left alone to observe without distraction.

It appears to be a family of three. The woman is tall and thin with a sharp-looking jaw, and her hair is pulled back harshly off her face. Her eyebrows are raised seemingly without effort, giving her a permanently bemused expression. The man standing at her side is tall as well, only overtaking her by an inch or two, and his shoulders are broad, his neck is thick. His hair is a dark black while the woman's is a bright blond, almost white. The boy standing a little off to the side, presumably their son, has hair to match his mother's. It reaches to his shoulders but is pulled back off his face, yet his features are not harsh like those of his parents. He wears a nonchalant look on his face, as if he's far from amused by the people he sees, yet does not feel resentful about it. He appears to be about fifteen.

Andromeda gasps.

Bellatrix and Narcissa elbow her for making such a noise, but she ignores their warning, and she says, "Bellatrix! Isn't that the boy named – "

"Yes," Bellatrix hisses. "That's him. Now be quiet, or else someone will – "

" – find you and feed you to the dogs," a different voice growls from somewhere to the right.

The sisters jump, completely startled, and spin around to see who has found their hiding place.

Sirius chuckles at the looks on their faces. "A bit excitable tonight, my dear ladies?"

Andromeda glares at him. "You scared us out of our minds."

He sighs. "Yes, well, doesn't take much to do that now, does it?"

"How is it that you're so evil and yet you've only been alive for one decade?" Bellatrix demands.

He sighs again, this time with a grin. "My level of evilness depends on who I'm standing next to, really." He takes one step closer to her. "See? Now that I'm next to you, I'm practically an angel."

She slaps him across the back of the head. He glares at her. "I rest my case."

She looks as though she's going to slap him again, but her mother comes to his rescue. "Bellatrix, dear, there's someone who wants to meet you. Come along, he's just over – " She's pointing to an empty corner of the room. She frowns. "Oh – well – he was just there a moment ago." She takes Bellatrix by the arm and begins to lead her across the room. "Come along, we'll find him, I'm certain he's around here somewhere, we just have to – oh! Mrs. Lestrange! How _are_ you, dear? You've met my daughter Bellatrix, I believe?"

Narcissa watches as her older sister is swallowed alive by the adult women. "I'm thirsty," she decides. "I'm going to get some juice."

She leaves Andromeda and Sirius, who are already deep in a debate about astronomy, and begins to push her way through the crowd towards the drink table. There are so many people in the room, so much noise, chatter, conversations, laughter, that Narcissa feels overwhelmed and suffocated. When she finally arrives at the table, somehow unscathed, she drinks a glass of juice all in one sip, grabs another, and leans against the table to catch her breath.

"I've never seen so many strangers in all my life," says a new voice, rather close to her ear.

Narcissa quickly turns her head and comes face to face with the blond boy she and her sisters had been observing earlier. She sees now, as he's looking straight at her, that his eyes are deep and mysterious and gray.

"Sorry, didn't mean to startle you," he adds. He's smiling, though it's almost a hint of a smile. His eyes flicker with something Narcissa can't recognize, and then he looks away. "It's just nice to finally see someone who looks as overwhelmed as I am."

She smiles back. "I don't know half of them, and yet most of them are my family. Actually – I think all of them are."

He laughs now. He's looking at her again. "That definitely makes me feel better."

"I'm ten," she says, though he hasn't asked. "I'm going to Hogwarts next year."

"Are you really?" he grins. "Well, very good for you. I already go to Hogwarts, you know."

Her eyes brighten. "Do you? What house are you in?"

"Slytherin." His grin is more of a sneer now.

This only excites her further. She sets her forgotten juice on the table. "Really? Are you really? That's what house my sisters are in! You must know them!"

"I probably do," he chuckles. "What are their names?"

"Bellatrix and Andromeda. Bellatrix is older; she's thirteen. What year are you in?"

"My fifth. I think I might have seen them here or there. Bellatrix has very dark hair, doesn't she?"

"Yes, she does!"

"And Andromeda is rather quiet – a bit shier than Bellatrix, isn't she?"

"Yes, she is!"

"Yes, I know who they are," he says, eyes glinting again. He smiles down at her. "It's no wonder you're their sister – you're just as pretty as they are."

She blushes. "Thank you – that's kind of you, but Bellatrix is really the beauty. I envy almost everything about her."

His interest is peaked. "_Almost _everything?"

"Oh yes," Narcissa nods. "I wouldn't wish her temper on anyone – I'm glad that I'm more patient than she is. Once she's angry, you don't want to be near her."

He chuckles again. He glances to either side of him, then leans down close to Narcissa so that he can whisper in her ear. "And what's your name, my little beauty?"

"Narcissa," she blushes.

"Narcissa – pretty name, isn't that? Narcissa, how would you like to do me a favor?"

"I'd love to," she gushes, before she can help herself, surprised and flattered that he should ask something of her.

"Good, good … can you keep it a secret, just between the two of us?"

She nods vigorously.

"Good," he says again. "Now, I need you to be my eyes and ears for me. You seem to know a lot of important things, things that I'm interested in – things like what you mentioned about your sister's temper, I mean."

"I'm afraid I don't understand."

"Next year you're coming to Hogwarts, and I assume you'll be sorted into Slytherin, meaning that at some point, we'll probably be seeing each other, won't we?"

"I do hope so," she whispers.

"Yes, yes we will. But, we've still got a whole year till then, so, until I see you again in September, I need you to keep an eye on your sister for me."

"On Bellatrix?"

"Yes, Bellatrix."

"But why?"

"Well, Narcissa, because – "

"Lucius! Oh, Lucius, _there_ you are! Mrs. Black has been looking absolutely everywhere for you!"

The boy's mother appears from the crowd and puts a bony hand on his shoulder. "Come along, this way, they're waiting to – oh," she says, upon seeing Narcissa. "Hello there, little girl. And who might you be?"

Narcissa doesn't like this woman. She sticks her chin into the air with a look of pure pride, and says, "I'm Narcissa Black. I'm _ten_ years old."

"You see, mother?" the boy says, shooting a wink at Narcissa. "She's hardly a little girl, isn't she? Very grown up indeed."

His mother chuckles, and a resemblance is quite apparent. "You're right, my dear. So sorry to have offended you, Narcissa."

Narcissa politely curtsies, as she has been taught to do, and then the woman leads her son back into the crowd, over to where Bellatrix and her mother are standing. Narcissa, more out of curiosity than anything else, follows them.

Bellatrix and the boy meet each other with raised eyebrows. Both are surprised at seeing the other, and yet both look as though they were expecting it. The mothers exchange a victorious wink, then take a few steps backwards from the scene, allowing their children to interact.

This does not appear to be the first time they've spoken to each other.

The boy drops into a dramatic bow before Bellatrix, who looks as though she's caught between a state of amusement and one of disgust. "Lucius Malfoy, my lady. Such a pleasure to finally meet you formally."

"I know who you are," Bellatrix says back, obviously embarrassed by his flamboyant display. "Stop that – get up – everyone is starting to look."

He returns to his former position, though people are still eyeing the two of them suspiciously. "I believe our parents are trying to see if we have any potential to be married."

She raises her eyebrows, surprised by his bluntness. "I'm under the same impression."

"Are you?" He's amused. "And what, may I ask, is your impression of me?"

She smirks. This is a challenge. "You're arrogant," she says, chin in the air. Even at thirteen, she knows exactly how to play this game. "Haughty, pompous, completely self-righteous." A pause. "However, despite this, you're quite charming, and I believe this combination makes you an utterly despicable human being."

Narcissa stares in shock at her sister. How could she say such a thing? Both mothers are looking on in horror as well, but then, to the amazement of everyone watching, Lucius sticks his hands in his pockets, leans back easily on his heels, and laughs. "Is that so?"

"Most certainly," Bellatrix says, eyes glinting to match his.

"I do believe you need punishment for insulting me in such a manner," he muses. "Perhaps I shall force you to sit across from me at dinner. Then you'll have to endure my company all night and, considering your opinion of me, I believe this should be punishment enough for you, shouldn't it?"

Bellatrix laughs. "Sitting beside you would be worse."

Lucius raises an eyebrow. He's obviously surprised that she's as bold as he is. "Would it? Well, in that case, I suppose I'm being rather lenient. I _would_ punish you properly by seating you next to me, but then I wouldn't be able to look up at your pretty face whenever I please, would I?"

Narcissa blushes on her sister's behalf. Bellatrix never blushes. "Very well then. Across from you it is."

And the two of them link arms, turn, and head off in the direction of the dinner table. Lucius gives Narcissa a wink as he passes.

She watches them go, and an unfamiliar feeling flutters around in her stomach, making her feel quite uncomfortable. Sirius has, by this time, come up beside her, and now he's chewing absently on a carrot. "What was all that about?"

She doesn't even look at him. "Bellatrix is going to marry him."

Sirius, apparently shocked by this statement, drops his carrot in mid-bite. "Wait … that was a _boy_?" He stands on his toes and cranes his neck to get a better view.

"Of course it was a boy," Narcissa says, glaring at him. "His name is Lucius Malfoy. What did _you_ think?"

"I don't know," Sirius says, staring at Lucius with a look of disgust on his face. "He just … he … I mean … look at him, Narcissa! He looks like a girl!"

"He does _not!_" she says hotly. "He's a boy, and he's fifteen, and Bellatrix is going to marry him!"

Sirius shrugs, bends down, picks his carrot off the ground, brushes it off, and takes another bite out of it. "Whatever you say. But seriously – if he wants people to see that he's a bloke, he should cut his hair, or take off the makeup, or – "

"He is _not _wearing makeup!" she snarls, grabbing his carrot and throwing it across the room. "Honestly, you don't know _anything_!"

She stomps angrily towards the dinner table as Sirius calls after her, "Hey! I was going to _eat_ that!"


	7. The Mistake

Disclaimer: Still not mine. Property of JK Rowling.

So, I lied. Instead of posting a Sirius-flashing-back chapter after every two Narcissa chapters, it'll be after every four. If that sentence just confused you, I apologize. Just wait and see what happens.

And sorry for the delay again. This time it was because I was in a car accident. Yes. It wasn't major, and I'm perfectly fine, but I haven't been in a writing or posting mood lately. My sincerest apologies.

Enjoy this chapter! I like it almost as much as the previous one!

_"Endulge yourself. Massage your feet. Take a nap. Give yourself a hug. You deserve it." - my chocolate wrapper_

**Chapter Five**

**_The Mistake_**

* * *

Eight months pass. Sirius and Narcissa are eleven. They're at King's Cross Station, on Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, waiting to board the Hogwarts Express for the first time. 

Narcissa can hardly stand still. The excitement is so much for her to take; she can hardly believe that she's finally off to school with her sisters and her cousin, after so many months and weeks and days of waiting, waiting, waiting.

And she hasn't forgotten the task she's been secretly accomplishing for the past eight months. She's been watching Bellatrix very closely, reading in between the lines of each of her letters. She's only seen Bellatrix for the past two and a half months, during summer holiday, but it's been enough to gather solid information about her feelings regarding one Lucius Malfoy.

Narcissa tries to remember, as Bellatrix is saying farewell to her mother, just one day when Bellatrix didn't mention Lucius. She can't think of one. Ever since that Christmas, everything Bellatrix talks about is marriage, or men, or both. Apparently, she and Lucius spent many an hour in the school's library, talking or laughing about nothing in particular, and about everything, both at the same time. During the summer, when she couldn't see Lucius everyday, she would spend her days prancing around the house like a queen, ordering her sisters to do this and that for her, and scolding her mother for running the house in "the wrong fashion. Really, mother, when _I_ move out and get my _own_ house, I would do things like _this_, let me show you …"

Narcissa looks away from Bellatrix as her mother calls for her. "Narcissa! Narcissa, my darling, come over here!"

She hurries over to her mother, who immediately captures her in a very tight embrace. "Now, my little darling, you'll be fine, won't you?"

"Of course I will, mother."

"Always remember your manners, won't you?"

"I will, mother."

"I've told your sisters to keep an eye on you, all right?"

"Yes, mother."

"And don't let Sirius get you into any trouble, understand?"

"Yes, mother."

"Good, then." She lets go of her daughter and plants a kiss on her forehead. "Write to me as soon as you've been sorted, darling. I'll see you at Christmas!"

"Good-bye, mother," Narcissa says obediently. She gives her mother a kiss on each cheek and then follows Andromeda onto the train. Sirius waves a good-bye to his parents and Regulus, then hops onto the train behind her. "Here we go!" he whispers into her ear, and she smiles.

Andromeda leads them down a narrow corridor, past students of all ages, all of whom are eagerly catching up with old friends or trying to meet new ones. It takes awhile for them to find an empty compartment. Bellatrix is nowhere to be seen.

"She's probably off with prettyboy," Sirius yawns, stretching out his arms.

Andromeda snorts. "I wouldn't be surprised." The train begins to move. "Look," she says, "I'm going to try to find a few of my friends. I'll be back later. Stay out of trouble, both of you."

Sirius feigns offense. "When have _I_ ever caused trouble?"

She shakes her head at him, as if to say that he's hopeless, then saunters out of the compartment and closes the door behind her.

Narcissa slides off her seat and goes over to the window. The scenery rushes past in a blur, churning in and out of itself as if it's being tossed around. She puts a hand to her stomach, for it feels like the same process is taking place in there. She can't remember a time when she's been more nervous or excited at the same time.

She stands by the window and Sirius sits on the seat – both in silence – for a few minutes before they hear a knock on the door.

Shooting a glance at Narcissa, Sirius slowly opens the door.

There are two students standing in the corridor. Both appear to be the same age as Sirius and Narcissa. The one who knocked is a girl, and the first thing Narcissa notices about her is her hair, which is a bright red. She's carrying so many books that she's almost buried behind them, yet she still doesn't have as many in her arms as does her friend. He's a little shorter than she is, with light brown hair, clothes that look a little worn, and a wand behind his ear.

"Hello," the girl greets them, peering at Sirius and Narcissa over the top of her books. "Can we come in?"

"Sure," says Sirius, sliding the door open a bit wider. "You can put your stuff – "

But she dumps them onto the seat next to Sirius before he can finish. Now that her hands are free, she wipes them off on her skirt, pushes her hair behind her ears, and then sticks out her right hand. "I'm Lily," she says, shaking Sirius's hand.

Her friend, also free of his burden, slumps down onto the other seat and looks as though he'd love nothing more than to sleep for a few years.

Lily glances at him. "That's Remus," she says. "I don't really know him. I just met him five minutes ago in the corridor." She suddenly notices Narcissa. "Oh – hello! Who are you?"

"Narcissa Black," says Narcissa, shifting uneasily.

Lily seems to sense this uneasiness, and suddenly she looks embarrassed. "I'm sorry – I tend to scare people with my forwardness, I think … my mother specifically told me to be less outgoing when I'm trying to meet people, but … sorry."

Sirius shrugs. "Narcissa's just shy."

"I am not," she says, glaring at him.

Lily laughs, glancing between them. "So you two know each other well, then?"

Narcissa nods, still glaring. "We're cousins."

"How lovely!" Lily exclaims, looking genuinely excited by this fact. Her eyes shine merrily whenever she speaks, but there's something about her that Narcissa doesn't like at all.

"I hope I meet people quickly," she goes on, taking a seat next to Remus. "I've already begun reading several of my textbooks, you know. Looking up spells, reading over a few theories, nothing too serious. I just don't want to be too far behind everyone else. My parents aren't magical, you see. Both of them are muggles – at least I think that's the right word. Bit of a surprise when they found out that I'm a witch."

Narcissa tries not to appear too disgusted. She _knew_ there was something wrong with this girl – a muggleborn! She can't believe it. She can't stand the thought. She shoots a glance at Sirius, and he looks a bit uncomfortable, too.

"So," Lily goes on, completely ignorant of the feeling she's just created. "What house do you two hope to be in? You'll have to be in the same one, won't you? I've heard that it's rare that siblings or relatives get separated."

"Slytherin," Sirius and Narcissa say at once, distaste evident in both their voices.

Now it is Lily who is uncomfortable. "Oh," she says slowly, her smile lessening a few centimeters. "That's … well … that's a good house, I've heard." She glances at Remus, who raises his eyebrows at her, and both of them shift uneasily in their seats.

"What about you?" says Narcissa. She doesn't really care so much – she's just curious to see where a muggleborn thinks she has a chance of succeeding.

"I think Ravenclaw would be my first choice," says Lily quickly, grateful for a slight subject change. "But Gryffindor sounds excellent, too. Remus, what about you?"

"Same," he says quietly, staring at his feet as if they're fascinating.

Sirius chuckles. Any discomfort he was feeling has now vanished. "Don't say much, do you?"

Remus looks up. "Me?"

"No, the werewolf sitting behind you. Yes, _you._"

His eyes grow round at the word "werewolf." However, it's only for a split second, and Narcissa wonders if she'd imagined it. "Oh," he says, "well … I'm just a bit tired, I guess. Would you _like _me to say something?"

Sirius shrugs. "Why do you have so many books?"

Remus shrugs back. "I like to read."

"All of those are just for fun?"

Remus glances carelessly at the books. "Yeah, I guess you could say that. Why are you so surprised?"

Sirius shrugs again. "I just don't like to read much."

There is a silence. Narcissa is watching everyone very closely, but especially the red-haired girl. Lily.

"What's your last name?" she suddenly asks.

The girl looks up. "Mine?"

Narcissa nods.

"Evans," she says.

And that settles the matter for Narcissa. She takes a seat next to the pile of Remus's books, making sure to keep a good distance between Lily Evans and herself. Her mother has warned her that even the slightest of conversations with a muggleborn could have frightening effects on one's magical abilities. She's heard all of the horror stories, all of the accounts about wizards and witches losing their powers or dying mysteriously after too much contact with a mudblood. She shivers. She looks out the window, deciding then and there that she'd rather die in a train crash than get sorted into the same house as a muggleborn.

* * *

The train arrives at Hogwarts, the first years are greeted by a very tall and hairy man, the man leads them across a perilous and murky lake to the castle – and so begins Narcissa and Sirius's journey at the magical school. As they walk into the Great Hall, all in a line, one awed face after another, Narcissa reaches down and takes Sirius's hand in her own. 

He raises his eyebrows at her and tries to pull his hand away, but this only makes her hold on more tightly. "I'm scared," she whispers.

He chuckles, shaking his head at her, as if to say that she's hopeless. "You, of all people, will be fine. If you don't belong in Slytherin, then _no one_ belongs in Slytherin. And I mean that as a compliment."

This calms her enough that she laughs at him. "You have the strangest compliments, you know."

He shrugs. "But they _do_ make you feel better."

And she realizes, to her bemusement, that he's right.

Meanwhile, the first student is called up in front of everyone to sit on an uncomfortable-looking stool to be sorted. Everyone looks as though they pity this boy very much, because none of them fancy the idea of being the very first one to be sorted. The hat is placed on the nervous boy's head, two moments pass, Narcissa wrings her hands, wonders why it's taking so long, and then suddenly the hat bellows, "HUFFLEPUFF!"

The boy, looking rather relieved, hops off the stool and scurries over to his Hufflepuff housemates, who are all on their feet cheering and clapping wildly for him. Once the hall settles down, the next student is called. A girl. She sits herself up on the stool, glances up at the hat as it comes down over her eyes, and –

She doesn't even have to wait for two seconds. The hat barely brushes her scalp before screeching, "RAVENCLAW!"

Narcissa bounces back and forth from foot to foot. She's terrified, excited, anxious, and pessimistic all at once. She doesn't know what she's so worried about, but she feels that something is about to go terribly wrong. Her stomach is in knots. To distract herself, she begins to keep track of how many students are sorted into each house.

The next student is sorted into Gryffindor.

Then Ravenclaw.

Another Ravenclaw.

Another Hufflepuff.

Another Gryffindor.

"Not many for Slytherin, are there?" Sirius whispers.

She turns to shush him, to hit him, _something_, when suddenly, she hears, "Narcissa Black!"

She spins around with such a start that she feels something crack in her knees. Sirius gives her hand a squeeze, she swallows, and then she hurries up to the front of the hall, in front of everyone, where the success of the next seven years of her life will be decided.

The stool is much taller up close. The hat is darker, more menacing. Narcissa slides herself up, folds her hands in her lap, holds her breath, and looks up. Everyone in the hall is looking at her. She can see the reds and golds on the robes of all of the Gryffindors, the greens and silvers on the robes of the Slytherins. Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff blur together, and there seems to be far too many students there … they couldn't possibly all be students, could they?

She feels something on her head, and soon the hat slips down over her eyes. It's cool and soft, but she can hear a low grumbling that seems to be inside her mind and yet outside of it at the same time. After a minute, the grumbling forms the word "_Yes._" The word is long and dragged out, sounding very much like the hissing of a snake. _"Yes_," it says again, "_Of course … no question … it must be…"_

Narcissa is completely frozen, paralyzed by so many emotions that she can't even breathe.

_"SLYTHERIN!"_

Her breath comes back to her in gasps, her knees tremble even more fiercely, and she can feel herself smiling. Slytherin. She is a Slytherin. As she hops off the stool to the sound of every single Slytherin clapping madly and cheering ferociously, she thinks that she has never been so happy in her entire life.

"I told you you'd be fine," Andromeda says, grinning as Narcissa takes a seat at the table. "You worry too much for your own good, I think."

Narcissa looks around her for congratulations from Bellatrix, but Bellatrix is deep in conversation with two other Slytherin boys. Lucius is nowhere in sight.

"Sirius Black!"

Narcissa's head whips back around to the front of the hall. She's on her feet almost immediately. Though she's standing, she's still quite short, and she has to get on her toes to see Sirius properly.

He strolls up to the stool as if he's walking to the bakery to buy bread. Shooting out his famous grin at anyone making eye contact with him, he slides onto the stool, gives Narcissa a wink, and then sits still as the hat is placed on his head.

A minute passes. Narcissa has her fingers crossed over her chest.

"Narcissa, honestly," scolds Andromeda, who's trying to pull Narcissa back down in her seat. "You're being ridiculous. Sirius will be sitting next to you in three seconds. Really, you act as though you can't go for too long without that boy before going mad."

Narcissa doesn't budge.

Another minute passes.

And another.

And two more after that.

Narcissa crosses her fingers more tightly. She feels rather than sees her knuckles turning white.

Another minute passes. Sirius shifts. He begins to fiddle around with his fingers.

Narcissa frowns. He only does this when he's confused.

Another minute passes. People begin to whisper. And then, suddenly, without any warning, and with a screech that seems to rip apart everything that Narcissa's bated breath is holding together, she hears, "GRYFFINDOR!"

She doesn't move.

The hat is lifted off Sirius's head. He hesitates before getting off the stool. Narcissa can tell that he's purposely trying to avoid her gaze. The Gryffindors are all cheering madly, stomping their feet, clapping their hands, waving their hats through the air, but as Sirius walks towards their table, he's quiet. His smile is strained, forced. He takes a seat, shakes a few hands, accepts several congratulations, and then falls quiet again, staring determinedly towards the front of the Great Hall. He still hasn't looked at Narcissa.

Very, very slowly, so slowly that it hurts her to do so, Narcissa sinks back into her seat. This isn't right. Something went wrong, there was a mistake, the hat said Gryffindor but it really meant Slytherin … it was simply a hat, it certainly made a mistake every now and then …

Bellatrix's attention has been caught. Her face also is blanched white, and she leans forward so that she can see both of her sisters. "What on earth just happened?"

"It has to be a mistake," Andromeda says, looking as though she might cry. "I mean, Sirius … he's our cousin … our blood … he can't … they can't really think …"

But Bellatrix is already thinking ahead. "What are we going to tell our mother? And _his_ mother?"

"Maybe we don't have to tell them right away," Andromeda says, trying desperately to strategize. "Maybe … maybe we can … I don't know … tell them something more traumatic so that in comparison, this won't seem so bad."

"Except that it _is_ bad," Bellatrix says, glaring at the sorting hat as it announces that its next victim belongs in Hufflepuff. "This is so, _so_ very bad …"

Andromeda glances sideways. "Narcissa? You haven't said anything. What do you think of it?"

Narcissa doesn't respond. She's staring down at the table.

The older sisters exchange a glance, decide not to bother with Narcissa any further, and then begin to brainstorm the letter that they will inevitably have to send home.

Narcissa stares. Her stomach is now still and heavy. Her eyes are stinging. She feels very cold, she feels as though someone has slapped her hard across the face. She isn't aware of anything for the next few minutes until another familiar name is called.

"Lily Evans."

She looks up. She feels a small pang in her gut as Lily is sorted into Gryffindor. She'll get to be with Sirius everyday.

Narcissa will hardly see Sirius at all for the next seven years.

Remus Lupin is called after a while, and then there are names she has never heard and doesn't care about, so many names that they all blend together after awhile …Alfred Parkinson, Nita Patil, Peter Pettigrew, James Potter … she stops listening after all of the _p_'s are finished. She hardly notices when new students join her table. She says nothing and greets no one – everyone simply assumes that she's shy.

After the ceremony, and after everyone has eaten, after everyone is released to their Common Rooms, and even after Narcissa is shown to her dormitory, she says nothing. She stays awake long into the night, though it isn't until about two in the morning that she really begins to cry. All of her housemates are asleep, so they don't hear her. If they do, they pretend to be asleep.

She stays awake long into the night, rocking herself back and forth, knees drawn to her chest and face buried in her knees so that her sobs are muffled, and she can only think about one thing – Sirius didn't even look at her.


	8. The Bastard

Disclaimer: JK Rowling is the genius and creator. I am simply the fool and the imitator.

_"It is never too late to be what you might have been." –George Eliot_

**Chapter Six  
_The Bastard_**

* * *

Narcissa encounters Lucius Malfoy four times during this year, though she only speaks to him the first two times.

It's her third day at school, and her second day of classes. She's sitting alone at a table in the Common Room, quietly working on homework for her potions class, when she suddenly senses his presence behind her. She doesn't even turn her head to see if she's right – she knows that it's him. He stands across the room for a few minutes, watching her as she ignores him, and then, without saying a single word, he comes over to the table, pulls out the chair across from her, and sits down.

Only now does she look up. Without any sign of welcome in her voice, she says, "Hello," and then continues with the sentence she's writing.

"So," he says easily, hands folded neatly on the table in front of him, "your first week as a Slytherin. Does it feel as wonderful as you'd imagined?"

She says nothing.

He leans a bit closer to her, as if he thinks she can't hear him. "Do you like it here so far?"

Still, she says nothing. She's written the same sentence twice, though she takes no notice.

He leans in even closer. "Are you ignoring me on purpose?"

"How can you speak to me?" she finally says, desperation in her voice, shame evident in her eyes. She feels as though she might cry again, though she's determined to remain composed in front of him. She keeps her eyes on his forehead, too afraid and ashamed to look him directly in the eyes.

He appears to be confused. "Sorry?"

"Sirius," she says miserably, as if this explains everything. "My cousin. You must have heard about him."

"Oh," he says, realization dawning on his face. "Well … yes. Of course I heard. I think everyone in our house has heard."

She looks back down at her work. She feels as though she is dirty and tainted. Rather than a fond thought, Sirius has become an embarrassment.

Lucius glances at the Common Room exit, then rises from his chair. "Look … I have a few things to be doing. I'll meet up with you tomorrow to discuss our … agreement." He pauses before he says the word, as if to ask if she remembers it.

She nods. He leaves her. The room is quiet again, but Narcissa finds it impossible to concentrate on her work. She sets it aside after five minutes.

The second time she sees him, which is only a day after the first encounter, is a day she thinks will be hard to forget. He's already sitting in the Great Hall when she arrives for breakfast. He's surrounded by several of his friends, all of them in their sixth year, or at least all of them looking very old, and he's laughing with them hysterically about something.

She likes the way his eyes look when he laughs. They're gray, though they almost look silver – shining, alive – when he laughs.

She slides onto the bench across from him, in between two of his friends – both female – and waits until she has his attention. His friends all look at her as though she's mad. They aren't accustomed to such a bold approach from a first year. She pays them no attention, but waits until he stops laughing and has his eyes on her. At first, she doesn't notice that he's wearing a face identical to that of his friends.

"I was wondering if now would be a good time to talk about… you know," she says, not wanting to mention their agreement in front of everyone. She suddenly feels small and outnumbered under the many looks of scrutiny directed towards her.

He raises an eyebrow. "Actually, no, I don't know. Enlighten me, won't you?" He crosses his arms over his chest, and suddenly there's a look of mischief in his eyes.

She blushes, feeling even more uncomfortable. "Last night, in the Common Room, you said you would meet me to talk about … well … that thing you wanted to talk about."

His friends are suspicious now. "Lucius," one of them says, casting a look Narcissa really doesn't like in her direction, "we weren't aware that you were having any _late night meetings_ with first years in the Common Room."

Lucius laughs. It's a cold laugh. "Well, that's because there are no late night meetings to be aware of. I really don't know what this little girl is talking about."

Little girl. He called her a little girl. The words echo over and over again in her mind, sounding harsher and more distinct each time. "You know what I'm talking about," she says, becoming anxious.

He looks at her as though he's taking great pride out of her discomfort. "Look, I'm sorry, but I really don't know who you are or why you're talking to me. I don't associate with _little girls_ – especially little girls with Gryffindor filth in the family. However, I suppose I could grant you the honor of speaking with me for just one moment – so, little girl, did you want to ask me something?"

She doesn't understand why he's doing this. He knows perfectly well what's he doing and who she is – she can see the recognition and the mischief in his eyes, and she can hear them in his tone.

"I think someone has a little bit of a crush on you, Lucius," one of his pretty female friends muses, laughing icily as she speaks.

"Well," Lucius says, straightening up his collar and sitting up ridiculously straight for a dramatic appearance, "really, I can't blame her. It's so hard to keep track of my many admirers these days, you know."

The girls around him giggle madly at this while the boys exchange smirks, and Narcissa gets up off the bench. "Why are you doing this?" she asks him, cheeks furiously red now from her humiliation. "Why are you pretending not to know who I am?" Her voice is trembling. She feels like a child.

He suddenly looks as though he pities her now, though there's still no warmth in his gaze. "Look, I already told you – I don't know who you are, nor have I ever spoken to you before … but I suppose I could take a picture with you, if you'd like. You can hang it on your wall – then you'd never have to speak to me in public again, would you?"

Now his friends are laughing so hard that they're snorting.

Narcissa can't bear it any longer. She turns on her heel and runs as quickly as she can from the Great Hall, hearing the laughter echoing behind her, and finding herself completely unable to rid the image of Lucius's malicious smirk from all the corners of her mind. She doesn't stop running until she's reached her dormitory. She refuses lunch, dinner, and classes, claiming that she's too ill to get out of bed, and then spends another long night crying into the soft fabric of her nightgown.

* * *

Classes aren't so painful. They provide a welcome distraction from _him._ She's already made several friends by the week's end, and she does get to see Sirius in two of her classes: potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts. They try to sit as near to each other in these classes as is possible, though it's difficult. Sirius has already made friends, too. In both classes, he's sitting next to a boy with messy black hair and mischievous brown eyes. Narcissa doesn't like the look of this boy, but she says nothing about it to Sirius.

The red-haired girl, Lily, is very smart. Actually, both she and Remus – the boy with her on the train – are very smart. They're both in Gryffindor too, and during both potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts, they seem to compete with each other in answering questions. Remus is shy. He lets Lily answer most of the questions, though Narcissa is certain he knows the answers to all of them. He doesn't bother her so much.

Narcissa makes one friend in particular whom she likes better than the others. He's a strange boy, an outcast already, though he's very intelligent. He likes to read. He has straight black hair that grazes his shoulders, and his skin is sallowy and pale, but Narcissa likes him all the same. He doesn't talk very much, but when he does, he's intriguing.

She first meets him in the Common Room, when she's having trouble with her Herbology homework. He's sitting on the couch in front of the fire, his nose buried deep inside a thick book. He looks as though he doesn't want to be disturbed, so Narcissa approaches him cautiously.

When she's finally standing in front of him, just a few feet away, she doesn't know what to do. She decides to wait. She waits patiently, just standing there in front of him, watching him read, turn the page, read a little more, turn the page, read a little more, until finally, he glances up in her direction.

"Hello," she says quickly, not wanting to miss her chance.

He looks over his shoulder, as if to see if she's addressing someone standing behind him.

"You," she says, grinning. "What's your name, again?"

He mumbles something that she can't understand.

"What?"

"Severus."

"Oh, that's right. I remember you from class today – but – well – anyway – I'm Narcissa. Do you remember me?"

He shakes his head.

"Oh." She feels slightly discouraged. "Well … anyway … I was just wondering … I mean, I was having a little trouble with my Herbology classifications … I can't tell the difference between four of these plants."

He looks at her, waiting for more.

She holds out her homework. "So … can you help me, then?"

He hesitates before taking the papers from her. He almost looks afraid, and she wonders why. He studies her work for a moment, frowns, then looks up at her. "Do you have a quill?"

She goes back over to the table to get one. When she returns, he looks afraid again, and this time she can't help but ask, "Did I do something to scare you?"

He shudders and the look of fright is gone, as if it had never existed. He doesn't answer her. Instead, he takes her quill, makes a few markings on the page, and then holds it up to show her. She leans down a bit closer towards him, but this only makes him back away, so she straightens back up and resorts to squinting at the paper from a distance.

"You made a mistake here," he says, tapping the paper once with the quill. "And see here? This plant has heart-shaped leaves while the ones next to it are shaped like diamonds. You have to look at the points of the leaves – that's usually where the difference is."

"Oh," she says, brightening. She sits next to him without realizing it, examining the changes he's made to her paper. "Thank you!" she says, looking up at him.

He scoots slightly away from her and smiles uncomfortably. "You're welcome."

He picks up his book again, but before he can continue reading it, she asks him what it is. He holds it up so that she can see the cover: _Dark Arts for the Darkest Minds: Level Nine.._ She frowns. "Is that required reading?"

He shakes his head. "It should be, though. It's really fascinating."

Her frown is paired with arched eyebrows. "It looks a bit … depressing."

He looks shocked at her words. It's one of the first emotions she's ever seen him display. "Depressing? It's far from that. I can lend it to you after I'm finished with it, if you want."

"No, thank you," she says, rising from the couch. "I have a lot of homework to do."

He nods, and she leaves him.

Their friendship begins from that point. They talk every night in the Common Room, by the fire, even if they have other homework they need to finish. They talk about anything, really, though it's usually about whatever Severus is reading, which is usually about the Dark Arts in some way. She likes to listen to him talk about the Dark Arts. They're something she's always wondered about, and when he talks about them he gets a certain gleam in his eye, a sign of passion, devotion, and dedication that Narcissa wishes she felt towards something. She asks him questions and he always knows the answers. He asks her questions and she always knows the answers, too, although his questions are of a different nature.

"What's your family like?" he asks her one night, not looking up from his book. She can't tell what his expression is, but his tone has more than curiosity in it.

She shrugs. "Well, I have my parents, of course, and then two sisters, Bellatrix – the oldest – and Andromeda – the middle sister. I'm the youngest. You've probably seen them around here. They're both in Slytherin."

"No," he says, still not looking up. "That's not what I mean."

She's confused. "Then what do you mean?"

"I mean – what's your family like – as a whole? Does everyone get along?"

"For the most part," she says. "Although I have one uncle, Uncle Alphard, who's a bit of a troublemaker. He's always trying to make my parents angry about something. And then –"

She's about to tell him about her parents' reaction upon discovering that Sirius had been sorted into Gryffindor, but for some reason, she stops.

"What?"

"Nevermind," she says quickly. She's looking away.

There are a few minutes of silence. It is Severus who finally breaks it. "I don't like my family."

She looks back at him. "Why not?"

He shrugs, and he finally makes eye contact with her. His eyes are sad and distant. "I just don't."

She doesn't ask about it further. After another few minutes of silence, he suddenly asks, "Wait … I meant to ask you … are you somehow related to Sirius Black?"

Her stomach immediately becomes a knot, though she tries not to look too surprised at the mention of Sirius. "Yes, actually. He's … my cousin."

Severus's face darkens and he glares into the fireplace. "I don't like him," he says firmly.

Narcissa stares at him. "What? You know him?"

He shakes his head. "No. And he doesn't know me, but he finds it rather funny to torment me whenever I see him."

"But – but we've only been in school for two months." This seems like a logical argument at the time, though Narcissa can't for the life of her figure out why she says it.

"So?" Severus says, and now he's angry. "I just want you to know that if you're anything like him, then I never want to talk to you again." He shuts his book, stands, and storms up the stairs to his dormitory.

Narcissa stares after him.

* * *

Christmas again. It's snowing and lonely and cold, and Narcissa sits in the windowbox at Grimmauld Place, wrapped in a blanket, dreading the moment she'll have to return to Hogwarts. Sirius is sitting in the box across from her, wrapped in a blanket of his own. He's watching her.

"I don't want to go back either," he says.

She looks at him. She says nothing.

* * *

About halfway through the year, Narcissa decides that she truly hates Lily Evans. Whenever the redhead answers a question in class, Narcissa scowls. Whenever Narcissa is sitting in the library or Great Hall with Sirius and Lily suddenly appears, usually with Remus or that black-haired boy, Narcissa looks away. Lily is always so vibrant, happy, intelligent, stubborn, and, worst of all, beautiful. She's always so everything. And Narcissa hates her for it.

Worst is when she interrupts one of Narcissa's few meetings with Sirius. It isn't often that they get to see each other – Narcissa always has homework to do, and Sirius is always hanging around with his other friends when he should be doing homework. He's already made so many friends. He's very popular.

This is why their meetings during lunch in the library, when they sneak food in and eat it behind the last row of books, or their meetings in the Great Hall, when they pretend not to notice the glares of their fellow housemates, or their meetings for a few brief moments in the corridors between classes – this is why their meetings are so important to her. They are few and far between, and so she relishes in every minute that she gets to see him, talk to him, or simply be near him. Judging from the mixture of anger and frustration in his eyes whenever they have to part, she assumes that Sirius feels the same way.

Lunch, after all, has never tasted better than when they're sitting in their hidden place in the library, enjoying the sound of the other's chewing, and knowing that they aren't supposed to be eating there in the first place.


	9. Interlude the Second

Disclaimer: Lalalala. JK owns. Really. That's all. She owns.

"I don't want realism. I want magic!" -Blanche Dubois, _A Streetcar Named Desire_

_**Interlude the Second**  
__Him_

* * *

_December 1995_

On the same night of their stay, the night in which Harry had received unsuccessful dancing lessons from Hermione, the three young friends go to bed early. They are tired. Sirius is tired too, but for a different reason. He's tired of different things.

He sits alone at the kitchen table with a mug of tea in front of him. He used to detest tea. It alwaysseemed so proper, so neat, so … intensely reminiscent of his mother. And of Bellatrix. And, somewhat, of someone else entirely.

_"Sirius, honestly – it'll make you feel better." She slides the saucer towards him with a white hand._

_"I don't like tea." A pause. "I thought you were angry at me."_

_"I am," she quietly muses, "I'm very angry at you, but I don't feel like I can yell at you unless you have enough energy to yell back."_

_He pushes the saucer away. "I'm not really thirsty."_

_She smiles silently at him, though her eyes are directed at the table. "And I'm not really angry." And she watches him drink his tea._

Sirius frowns to himself. He takes another sip of his tea, then looks down at the wrinkled picture in his other hand. It's old, yellowed at the corners – it's obvious that this picture has been viewed many times, crumpled once or twice, ripped down the middle at one point. A faint brown line still remains where he had performed the reattachment charm.

The stairs suddenly creak. Someone is coming down to the kitchen. The footsteps are light and the person's feet are seemingly bare, though Sirius can't recognize to whom they belong.

When he hears the steps pause in the doorway, followed by a short half-gasp of surprise, he turns around to greet his guest.

It is a cliché moment in time for him, the perfect cliché moment, because it is Hermione. Any other person he would have loved to see standing there, to talk to, to have a cup of tea with, but instead, it is Hermione. She is dressed in her nightclothes and a robe is wrapped tightly around her, and her feet are, as he had suspected, bare. She appears to be wide awake, and she looks very startled to see Sirius sitting there.

Sirius, meanwhile, gestures to her with his mug. "Tea?" He doesn't really want her to have tea.

She shakes her head. "No, thank you."

"Can't sleep?" He doesn't really want to make conversation.

She shakes her head again. "Not really."

"Have a seat." He doesn't really want her company.

She hesitantly takes the seat across from him. She shivers once, crosses her arms to get warm, and looks around the kitchen, probably feeling a bit awkward.

Sirius doesn't say anything. He stirs his tea, looks at Hermione, looks at the stove, shivers once, looks at Hermione again, and whispers, "Well … I should probably get some rest. You too – you look tired."

She looks as though she isn't going to respond, so he rises from his seat. When he's in the doorway, he hears a faint, "Sirius?"

He sighs. He turns.

She's looking at him. "Can I ask you something?"

He frowns. "Of course you can." He'd prefer that she didn't.

"This is slightly awkward, I know," she begins, and he can see that she's wringing her hands, "but I was simply wondering if you … well … if you ever felt … if you ever felt confused about your … you know … feelings … for someone?"

He raises an eyebrow, and his frown deepens. This is unexpected. He suddenly notices how distressed she looks. Her hair is messy. Her eyes are shadowed by dark circles. Her cheeks look gaunt in the dim lighting, and her eyes are shining with a pitiful desperation. He shifts uncomfortably in the doorway."You mean … have I ever wondered if I'm in love with someone?"

She blushes furiously, and her eyes immediately revert to the table, as if looking at him will make the situation all that more terrifying. "That's putting it very bluntly."

"Love is blunt, my dear," he says matter-of-factly. She's suddenly reminding him of someone else."Blunt, terrifying, painful, and awful."

She looks up, eyes wide. "But it's good, too."

"Do you think so?"

"It _has_ to be."

"Because your books say so?"

"Because … because …" She is struggling for the right words – "Because I think that … that it simply _has_ to be."

He has, by this time, slowly approached the table and taken his seat once again. "But _why_ do you think so?"

She sighs. "We need something good to depend on. Love has always been … it's always, _always_, been … well ... _good_."

He leans back in his chair. "So, if love is good, and you know this, and you depend on it – what else is there to consider?"

"What do you mean?"

"Love is annoying, Hermione, because it just happens. One minute you're fine, happy, un-stressed, and the next minute you're running around like a hippogriff with it's head cut off. That is really annoying. But it's true, because it just happens to you, and if you think that there's even the slightest chance that you feel it for someone, then … well, then, you probably do."

"I know," she moans, appearing to be very upset, "I've been telling myself that over and over again, but … it's so confusing. I don't know about him."

He smiles. "You're a smart girl, Hermione. You'll figure it out."

She smiles back, and now she really does look tired. "Thanks, Sirius."

He nods. He regards her for a moment with a curious frown, then he smiles again, then begins to rise from his seat.

"Wait … Sirius?"

He arches an eyebrow.

"Who is that girl in the picture? The girl in the green dress?"

Sirius shivers. He glances down at the picture in his hand. "A girl I used to know. I found this old thing in my pocket yesterday."

"Oh." She looks slightly disappointed.

"What?"

"Nothing," she shrugs. "I just thought that you might have been in love with her."

"And why would you think that?"

She smiles sadly. "Because right now, you look the way that I feel."

And his smile has no hint of sadness whatsoever. "She isn't the girl that I'll love forever."

A pause. Hermione doesn't move. Sirius shivers.

"She's the one that I'll hate for the rest of my life."


	10. The Villain

Disclaimer: Not my fault.

I love days off of school. I love spare time. I love updating.

I'm in a loving mood, by the way. Just in case that wasn't already apparent. -spreads the love-

"_May angels lead you in ... hear you me, my friend ... on sleepless roads, the sleepless go ... may angels lead you in ..." -'Hear You Me,' Jimmy Eat World_

**Chapter Seven:  
****_The Villain_**

* * *

There is a change in Sirius when Narcissa next sees him. This next time is when they're on the Hogwarts express, heading off towards their second year. They're both twelve. She can't tell what the change in him is, but something about him is definitely different. More restrained. They haven't seen each other since the end of their first year – she hasn't even received a letter from him all summer. When she asks him why, he shrugs carelessly, though there is a different emotion in his eyes. "My parents wouldn't let me."

She frowns. "Are they angry at you?"

He hesitates before nodding and, again, she wonders why he's acting this way. "Yeah. They say that I must have done something wrong to get sorted into Gryffindor instead of Slytherin. They hardly spoke to me all summer."

"And they wouldn't let you speak to me? Not even once?"

"Not even once," he says, shaking his head. "You know my parents. They're mental."

She doesn't agree, but this is simply out of politeness. "Maybe it will be better at Christmas," she says optimistically.

He sighs. "I hope so."

They talk for a few more minutes before Lily suddenly appears, taking Sirius by the arm. "_Here_ you are," she says, grinning at him with her pretty green eyes. "We've been looking for you for ages!" She waves at Narcissa before dragging Sirius off towards his other friends.

Narcissa wonders if Lily even sees the glare she's sending in her direction.

* * *

In October, a little before Halloween, Narcissa is studying quietly by herself in the library. Severus said that he might join her later if he had time – he was serving a detention with Sirius and the black-haired boy for some trouble they'd caused. Narcissa is thinking about all three of them, lost in both her thoughts and her concentration on her homework, so she doesn't notice when two people sneak up behind her with very mischievous grins on their faces.

Suddenly, a pair of hands comes from behind her and covers her eyes. She drops her quill in surprise, and her hands instinctively go up to free her eyes. There's chuckling behind her as she struggles, and this is what betrays her perpetrator's identity. "Sirius!" she hisses, trying to pry his fingers off her face, "Stop that! Let go of me!"

"Quiet!" the librarian hisses.

Sirius drops his hands and seats himself in the chair next to Narcissa's. As her eyes are readjusting to the light, she sees that his black-haired friend is with him. He quietly takes the chair across from her.

"Don't do that again," she scolds Sirius, though now she's smirking too. "And aren't you still supposed to be in detention?"

He shrugs. "We got bored, and James had a brilliant escape plan that he's been dying to use. Speaking of which – look who I've brought to see you!" He motions towards his friend, who's still smirking. He salutes Narcissa, and she smiles politely back at him.

"Narcissa," Sirius continues, "this is my friend James."

"James _Potter_," James elaborates, sticking his hand out towards Narcissa.

She doesn't want to shake his hand, but she puts hers out anyway, remembering her manners. Instead of shaking it, however, James takes it in his own, draws it to his mouth, and plants a kiss on its surface – all very dramatically and ridiculously. "Such a _pleasure_, really. I didn't know that Sirius had any good-looking relatives."

Narcissa quickly takes her hand away. Under the table where neither of the boys can see, she wipes it off on her skirt.

Sirius looks between them, obviously very pleased with his introduction. "I just wanted you two to meet each other," he says. "My two best friends."

He and James then bid her farewell, rise from the table, and saunter merrily out of the library.

Narcissa looks down so that no one in the library can see the tears in her eyes.

* * *

In January, Lucius finds her.

She's been very good at avoiding him all year, but on the one day that she lets her guard down, he finds her. She's late for class and is hurrying through the corridor, not paying attention to what's in the hall in front of her. As she rounds a corner, she smacks hard into someone and stumbles to the ground, dropping her books, parchment, and quills everywhere.

She doesn't even have to look up to know that it's him. She can tell that it's him by his shoes, his knees. She doesn't dare look up at him, she doesn't even mumble an apology – she instead hurries to gather up all of her belongings so that she can leave him as quickly as possible.

He acts just as she fears he will and kneels down to help her. "Well, well, well," he says, lifting her chin so that she's forced to make eye contact with him. "If it isn't my little beauty."

A hot mixture of anger and embarrassment wells up in her stomach and makes her cheeks flush pink. She glares at him. She jerks her chin out of his hand and goes back to gathering her things.

He's surprised. "Why so cold all of a sudden?"

She bites her tongue to keep from speaking. She won't give him that reward.

"Oh," he says, chuckling a little, "I see what it is. You're still angry with me for that little episode in the Great Hall last year, aren't you?"

Still, she doesn't answer him. He reaches out to pick up one of her books, but she quickly snaps, "Please, don't."

He's taken aback. "Look, Narcissa – " and for once his tone is sincere – "it was just a little fun with my friends … I didn't mean to offend you … it was just a bit of joking."

She grabs the last of her parchment, stuffs it in her bag, gets to her feet, and then looks him straight in the eyes with a boldness she never knew she possessed. "You humiliated me in front of all of your friends. You treated me like an inferior, and I am _not _inferior to you. Now please, leave me alone," she says, voice tight and determined. "I _never_ want to speak to you again."

And she pushes past him to continue on to her class, to which she is already ten minutes late.

He doesn't stop her.

* * *

He does, however, get to her in a different way. In April, he finds Severus.

She doesn't know when exactly it happens, or where, or why he's chosen Severus, but one afternoon, when Severus has agreed to take a walk around the lake with Narcissa, it begins.

It's cold outside as Narcissa stands under a tree, waiting for Severus to arrive. She feels a drop of rain every now and then, though it's certainly far from drizzling. She sees Remus sitting a little far off from her, under a different tree, reading quietly by himself. He's often reading somewhere by himself – she wonders why. He seems nice enough … for a Gryffindor, at least … though he doesn't seem to have many friends. He reminds her of Severus. Both of them always seem to be reading, and both of them seem to be outcasts. She wonders why.

Severus arrives twenty minutes later than he said he would. This is unusual – he's always taken pride in being punctual. "Sorry," he says, out of breath and laden with books.

She shrugs. "That's okay. Did something come up?"

He shifts uncomfortably. "Actually … yes."

She waits. "And?"

"I was talking with someone. A seventh year boy – he wanted to – to – well – he heard about my talent and interest in the Dark Arts, and he's interested in the same thing, so – he was just talking to me about it." He pauses. "He really knows a lot about it. Him and all of his friends. It was fascinating to listen to them talking about it all … about all their theories, everything they've read …"

She's afraid to ask, but she does anyway, already knowing what the answer will be. "What's his name?"

"Lucius Malfoy." Another pause. "Anyway, I just wanted to let you know that I can't go walking with you now. He asked if I'd show him some of my books."

She shakes her head and smiles, as if it's nothing. "You don't have to ask me for permission."

He shifts again. "I know, but … I don't know." Yet another pause. "It's just … no one has ever taken an interest in me like this, Narcissa. No one has ever actually sought out to be my friend – never."

He turns and leaves. The trees are the only ones to hear her whisper, "_I_ wanted to be your friend, Severus."


	11. The Closet

Disclaimer: Nope, sorry, you've got the wrong address. If you want to find the brilliant creator of all of this, try the next street over. It's the house with the Hogwarts crest mounted on the front door.

"_Sometimes the last thing you want comes in first;  
Sometimes the first thing you want never comes."  
-"Strange and Beautiful," Aqualung_

**Chapter Eight  
****_The Closet_**

* * *

Lucius graduates in June. A few days afterwards, his parents throw an impossibly grand party at their home, and everyone is invited. Their home is called Malfoy Manor – the name strikes fear into Narcissa's heart every time she hears it. 

Narcissa dreads this party for the entire day. When it finally comes time to leave her house, she pretends that she can't find her shoes. When Bellatrix finds the shoes in the closet – even after Narcissa claims that she's already looked there five times – Narcissa says that she can't find her other earring. Her mother tells her to simply take out the one she's already wearing, but Narcissa claims that by doing this, she'll have to change her entire outfit, because it certainly isn't complete without the earrings.

"Mother," Bellatrix sighs, raising a polished finger towards the clock, "can't we just leave her here? We're going to be late!"

Her mother looks shocked. "Of course we can't _leave_ her here. Do you have any idea how disrespectful that would look? They would immediately assume that we think we're so high and mighty that we can include or disclude whomever we want to their party! It's completely out of the question. Narcissa, come here and stop that fussing."

"Disclude isn't a word, mother," she says. A quiet statement of defiance.

Her mother narrows her eyes at her. "You'd better behave yourself at this party, young lady. I don't know why you're so against going, but you're going, and you'll remember your manners, or else you'll be sorry for it when we come back home."

Narcissa glares at her shoes.

They arrive at the party just a few minutes after three. About seventy people have already arrived before them, so Narcissa's mother sets off on an almost impossible mission to find Lucius's parents. Andromeda disappears somewhere almost instantly, and Bellatrix scans the room for Lucius. Narcissa, meanwhile, sneaks unnoticed into the kitchen to see if she can hide there for a little while.

Luckily, no one important is in the kitchen. It's full and buzzing with around two dozen house elves, all running around wildly to ensure that all of the food is prepared and that there is four times more than enough of it. Narcissa has never really liked house elves. She ignores them.

She sits on an unopened brown box in front of the main pantry's door. She leans against the back of the door, eyes closed tightly, wondering if she can will herself into becoming invisible.

Suddenly, she hears hushed voices. She opens her eyes again, looks around the room, and tries to see if anyone is whispering around her. All of the house elves are still bustling around, yelling frantic orders at each other or taking quick tastes of the food to see if it's ready. None look as though they've just been whispering. She frowns and leans back against the door again.

The voices are still there. They seem to be coming from behind her. But if they _are_ coming from behind her, then that means that there's someone in the pantry …

Confused, she gets up off the box and scoots it a little to the side. Then, glancing around to ensure that no one is watching her, she opens the pantry's door very slightly, just wide enough that she can see inside.

It's Sirius, of course. He, Andromeda, Regulus, and two other children Narcissa doesn't recognize are sitting there, each on their own overturned box. Sirius raises an eyebrow at her. "Well? Are you going to join us, then?"

She quickly lets herself in and then shuts the door quietly behind her. There's a small light bulb hanging from the ceiling, casting a dim light in the crowded closet. Even so, it's rather dark. The pantry smells of spices and musty bread, and as Narcissa's eyes adjust to the darkness, she can see that bread is what mostly covers all of the shelves. There seems to be every kind of bread in existence – white, wheat, rye, French, and rolls of every imaginable kind.

Sirius, who is pleasantly chewing on a sourdough roll, motions for her to sit next to him. There isn't very much room on the box upon which he's seated, even when he scoots over, but she manages to squeeze in next to him after a bit of shifting around. His arm is touching hers; his leg is wedged alongside her leg. Both limbs are very hot and sweaty – there isn't much air in the closet.

"So," Sirius muses, looking at her sideways, "how did you know we were in here?"

"I didn't," she says honestly. "I was sitting on a box on the other side of this door."

He swallows a bite of the roll. "Why?"

She shrugs. "I was hiding."

Andromeda laughs at her. "Is that why you didn't want to come? You were afraid of seeing someone?"

Narcissa blushes. She'll have to learn to think before she speaks. "No. Not at all. I just …"

"Don't you want to know why _we're_ here?" Sirius asks, picking up her silence.

She nods. There is something in her eyes that thanks him for the subject change, and there is something in his eyes that says, "Don't mention it." An unspoken language.

"We are here," Sirius goes on, "because we are trying to figure out where we'll stand once Bellatrix marries Lucius."

Narcissa's heart flutters. "And why would you want to do that?"

Sirius shrugs. "It's good to know where we'll stand. Honestly, Narcissa, sometimes I wonder how you scheme things at all. Everyone knows that the first step to getting somewhere is making a solid foundation. If we know where we'll stand after she marries _prettyboy_, then we'll have a better idea of how we can kill him afterwards and make it look like an accident."

Andromeda smirks, the shadows dancing all along her face. "Sirius, my dear cousin, you make it sound like some wild battle plan."

He snaps his fingers. "Exactly. That's exactly what it is."

"I'm hungry," Regulus announces. "Sirius, where did you get that bread?"

"Shut up. Now, the rest of you – "

"Who _are_ you?" Narcissa interrupts, pointing at the two children she doesn't recognize.

"I'm Rabastan," says one of them, though it's more of a grunt than an actual response. He appears to be Narcissa's age, maybe a year or two older, and his face is very thin and sharp. His chin juts outward and there are dark shadows under each of his eyes – he almost looks like a skull that has yet to decompose.

The other one, also a boy, says nothing. He sinks further back into the shadows.

Sirius chews his sourdough roll nonchalantly, staring at the boy as if he were simply another piece of bread. "He doesn't talk much."

"Not at all, actually," says Andromeda. "He hasn't spoken a word this entire time. He just follows Rabastan around."

"I don't even know who he is," grunts Rabastan, looking rather irritated by the whole ordeal.

Sirius snaps out of his trance, then glares at each of them in turn. "We're getting off track. We need to focus."

Andromeda sighs, leaning back on the shelves. "Sirius, I'll be in my fifth year next term. Fifteen years old. I have bigger things to be worrying about than my sister's personal life."

He shakes his head at her, as if she's the most naïve person he's ever met. "Andromeda, darling, think about it: Bellatrix marries. You therefore gain a brother, and a rich one at that, since Lucius is a rich bastard. Bellatrix therefore becomes a rich bastardess."

"Not a word," Narcissa observes.

Sirius glares at her, and she shuts her mouth. "Anyway," he says, "she moves in with him. They do their little marriage things. Our parents, meanwhile, have nothing better to do than to … well …"

Andromeda's eyes widen. "Move on to _me_!"

Sirius snaps his fingers again. "Exactly. You. You'll be their next project, and then once they've married you off to some rich wizard with a blond ponytail, they'll move on to Narcissa."

"Well what about you?" Narcissa asks, not wanting to talk about her future marriage. "You're the same age as me. They'll be looking for you long before they start looking for me."

He shakes his head. He leans back against the shelves, arms folded behind his head, looking extremely haughty. It's almost irritating. "Nope. I have a feeling they'll be looking for Regulus long before they start looking for me. Well, as long as he gets sorted into Slytherin."

Narcissa frowns. "Oh yes? And why is that?"

"Because." He sits up straight, suddenly looking quite serious. "I'm the _bad_ child, Narcissa. I threw my life away by getting sorted into Gryffindor on purpose. Had it all planned out, you understand. I sorted myself into Gryffindor just to annoy the lot of them. Completely my fault. Without question."

"They can't still blame you?" she asks, bewildered by this realization.

Andromeda gives her a look that could be taken for pity. "Of course they blame him, Narcissa. Think of our family. Think of the way they function."

Narcissa stares at her. "_They_?"

Andromeda looks down. She says nothing.

"Andromeda … it's _your_ family. We aren't a _they_."

She looks up. Her eyes are glistening yet fierce, and she looks more defiant than Narcissa has ever seen her look. It's almost frightening. "There are other views out there besides our family's, Narcissa. There are other people with other ideas." She pauses, and her chin trembles. "I like some of their ideas better than I like ours."

Narcissa is suddenly angry. "I don't understand. What on earth do you mean?"

"Oh _think _about it," she snaps back, just as angrily. "Think of what our family is doing to Bellatrix. If Malfoy came from muggle parents, or was in a different house, or even if he was exactly the same as he is now except that he was ugly, do you really think they would have looked twice at him? What are they _doing_ to us?"

Narcissa glares at her. "They're looking out for us. They're trying to ensure that we're safe. That we have good, solid lives."

Andromeda suddenly laughs, but it's a bitter, cold laugh. "That's just it, Narcissa. They don't want us to have _lives._" She then stands, shoves Regulus aside, and storms out of the closet, letting the door slam behind her.

Narcissa turns to Sirius, still fuming from her argument. Her arm loses contact with his for the first time since she's sat down, and she can feel it damp with perspiration. She doesn't know whether it's his or her own. "Well?" she asks him, waiting for him to say something. To take her side.

He looks at her, at his roll, tosses it aside, leans back against the cabinets, and lets out a long, indecisive, defeated sigh. "I don't know."

And it's strange, because that's exactly how she feels.

"Oh, and, Narcissa?"

She looks at him.

"Why are you only wearing one earring?"


	12. The Misunderstanding

Disclaimer: Chapter Nine already? And it's _still_ not mine? Well. By golly.

Hello, my lovely dears. I really wanted to post notes to each of you after this chapter, but I thought I'd just putthis upso that it wouldn't take three more days. SO - if you do want me to put a note to you in the next chapter, then tell me in your review, and feel free to ask me any questions or offer any comments that you'd like a response to. You know the drill. Now read, my minions!

**Chapter Nine  
_The Misunderstanding_**

* * *

The third term of Narcissa's Hogwarts career begins very differently than the two terms preceding it. Sirius doesn't sit with her on the train. 

She doesn't mind. She knows it should bother her, but it doesn't. She can't bring herself to feel unhappy since she knows that this year, she won't have anything to worry about. This year, Lucius won't be there.

Andromeda sits across from her, a frown infringing upon her pretty face as she looks out the window. She's worried about something, though Narcissa can't figure out what it is.

"Andromeda?"

She jumps. Her face is pale. "Yes?"

"You look … bothered."

Andromeda forces a smile. "I'm not bothered. I don't know why you'd think that."

Narcissa gives her a look. A sisterly look. One that Andromeda usually gives to her, not the other way around. "Probably because you always look like that when you're bothered about something."

She shakes her head, looking out of the window again.

Narcissa doesn't give up. She knows that something is wrong. "Well … if it isn't _something_ … then … is it _someone_?"

Andromeda's expression suddenly relaxes and she laughs. She's still looking out the window. "Narcissa, I am amazed at how well you can read people sometimes."

Narcissa sits up. "So it _is_ someone! It is, isn't it? Is it a boy?"

Andromeda laughs again. "Yes, it is a boy."

"At school?"

"At school."

"Do I know him?"

Andromeda looks at her. Her eyes are still laughing, but her mouth is not. "No, you don't know him. You probably wouldn't recognize him."

"Can I meet him?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because I say so."

"That isn't a reason, Andromeda."

"It's reason enough for me."

"Well, I'll probably see him anyway, if he comes to the Common Room often, or sits near us at the table during meals."

She shakes her head. She's looking at Narcissa and, for the first time, it's difficult to tell what she's thinking by her expression. "He doesn't like the Common Room very much, nor the library. He's never in the same place twice, so you probably won't ever see him anywhere."

Narcissa shrugs. "I'll find him."

Andromeda shrugs back. She doesn't even look frightened.

* * *

The first Hogsmeade weekend of the year arrives, and Narcissa, Sirius, and about thirty other students are too sick to take part in it. Some sort of illness has infected most of the school. 

At about twelve thirty in the afternoon, Narcissa finds that she's extremely hungry. Groaning, she rolls over to get out of bed, misjudges the distance, and topples out of the bed and onto the cold floor. She groans again, realizing that she'll now have a few nasty bruises later on, and she stumbles to get to her feet.

There are only two people sitting in the Common Room when she goes downstairs. One of them is Severus, with his head bent low over a long letter he's most likely been scribbling for hours, and the other is a first year girl sniffling into a pile of tissues by the fire. Narcissa gives her a sympathetic look as she passes, mumbles a hello to Severus, and then trudges out of the Common Room.

She realizes, once she's in the corridor, that she's wrapped in her bed's blanket. She doesn't even remember pulling it over her shoulders. Deciding that she's become delirious from a dire lack of food, she quickens her pace towards the Great Hall and tries to think of a food that sounds appealing to her grumbling stomach. She does not have to ponder this too long before she hears someone sneeze loudly behind her.

She turns. It's Sirius. His nose is red and raw, probably from too much sneezing and nose-blowing, his lips are chapped, his face is pale, and his hair is wild. Nevertheless, he smiles upon seeing his cousin. "You're wrapped in a blanket, you know."

"You look like you've been hit by a train," is her croaky reply.

He salutes her while sneezing again. "And with reassurance like that, I'm sure I'll be feeling better in no time."

Her stomach stops growling. She suddenly feels nauseous.

It must show in her face, because suddenly Sirius looks very uneasy. "You aren't going to … you know … _vomit,_ or anything … are you?"

"I don't know," she says honestly. "I feel terrible."

He shifts from foot to foot. He doesn't look very convinced that she's vomit-free, but nonetheless, he says, "Let's go to my dormitory."

She stares at him. " … _Why_?"

He shrugs. "I'm bored. And no one's in there – they're all in Hogsmeade."

She sighs. "I don't know. I think I just want to go back to sleep." She pauses. "Or maybe I'll just sleep here. Behind that statue. My dormitory is so far away …"

"And mine is right around the corner. Come on. It'll distract you."

She sighs again, this time in defeat. "Well … fine. But if I get tired, I'm borrowing your bed."

And so away to his dormitory they go. It's quite cold in the Gryffindor Common Room – no one has bothered to light a fire – but Narcissa doesn't notice this. She's too entranced with the Common Room itself. It looks just like her own Common Room, but the red and gold banners that replace the green and silver ones she's accustomed to look like imposters. The red couch seems out of place; the armchairs look silly, and the lions on the banners and walls seem to mock her. She shivers and wraps the blanket more tightly around her shoulders.

Sirius doesn't notice her uneasiness. "Come on," he says, leading her up the dormitory staircase. "The girls' stairs have been charmed so that boys can't go up them, but ours our normal. Apparently we boys can't be trusted." An eye roll. "Personally, I don't think that girls are more trustworthy. You can be pure evil sometimes."

Narcissa raises her eyebrows.

"Not _you_ personally," he corrects himself, grinning. "I simply meant all girl-kind in general."

Her expression relaxes. She grins back. "Yes, well, usually our evilness is all in good fun. It's rare when a girl is evil just for the sake of being evil, you know."

He laughs again. "You seem to be an expert on this topic, Miss Black."

She laughs, too. "I _do_ have two older sisters, Mr. Black. I watch and learn."

His laughing stops abruptly. "That's a very good point."

They're at his dormitory.

"After you," he says, pushing the door open for her.

She steps inside slowly, as though it's forbidden ground. There are five beds in the room, just like in hers, although once again her eyes are overwhelmed by the red and gold draped everywhere. The beds are all made, the room is generally tidy, but it's still obvious that it's inhabited by boys rather than by girls. A few posters sporting scantily-clad, deviously smirking witches decorate the walls, along with several Quidditch posters. There's a broomstick leaning against the wall in one corner, and a pile of what appears to be dirty Quidditch robes in another corner. A few books are stacked on one of the desks, and shoes have been kicked off near one of the beds.

Narcissa cautiously takes a seat on one of the beds, still looking around. "That's James's bed that you're sitting on," Sirius says. "See all the Quidditch stuff around it?"

He's right. The majority of the Quidditch posters in the room are covering the wall above James's bed, and the broomstick is sitting in the corner closest to it. There are also three snitches on the bedside table, along with a magazine titled _The Flying Witch_ that apparently contains naughty pictures dealing with witches, Quidditch, and sexual innuendos.

"That's my bed," Sirius goes on, pointing to the next bed over. He has several pictures of witches decorating his wall, but on his bedside table, Narcissa is surprised to find five very thick books about animals.

"What're those for?" she asks him, pointing at the books.

He glances at them. There's a hint of fear in his eyes for a split second, but it's gone before Narcissa can ponder it. "What? Oh, those? Just a bit of … er … light reading."

She laughs. "Since when do you read for fun?"

He thinks for a moment. "Since … yesterday. It's really good for the brain, you know. And people have been telling me for years that books can be fun. For example – " He goes over to his bedstand, takes the book on the top of the stack, and then climbs onto his desk. "Come here."

She stares at him. "No." A pause."Why?"

"Just do it."

She sighs, relenting. She climbs up onto the desk next to him – still wrapped in her blanket – and watches, curiously, as he opens the window. He leans out as far as he can without slipping through it, then waves over his shoulder for Narcissa to do the same. She does. They both look down below them, and Narcissa sees Severus walking across the grass, book under his arm. He looks like he's walking towards his favorite tree, the one under which he usually reads during the long afternoons.

The smile on Sirius's face is purely satanic. He takes the book, raises it above his head, waits for the perfect moment, and then drops it. It falls cleanly through the air. The thudding sound that it makes when it hits Severus straight on the head makes Narcissa's stomach curl. Her jaw drops.

Sirius pulls her back inside, already laughing himself into hyperventilation. Tears of pure delight are running down his face, and his arms are wrapped tightly around his aching middle, and he says, "Now _that,_ Narcissa, is how books can be fun."

"Why did you do that?" she demands at once. She can feel the heat rising to her face.

Sirius, however, does not stop laughing. In fact, her question only makes him laugh harder. "Because … I … hate …him!" he gasps between his snorts.

She glares at him. "What has he ever done to you?"

He manages to calm himself down a little, but he's still chuckling as he wipes the tears from his eyes. "He was born, that's what."

She slaps him. Hard. There is a deafening silence where his laughter existed only seconds before.

He stares at her with his mouth slightly open in shock. She's still fuming – her cheeks are red, her knuckles white, and her jaw firm and decisive. "He's my _friend,_" she growls, looking positively menacing.

And then he does something she would've never expected him to do. The last thing she ever thought he would do.

He slaps her back.

She gasps at the pain of his blow. He hit her hard – no one has ever hit her before in her life. It's her turn to stare at him, eyes wide, face white, jaw trembling where it once was firm.

He doesn't even look ashamed. He looks resolute.

"Why did you do that?"

"Why did _you_ slap _me_?"

"I was defending my friend."

He sneers. She hates when he does this. She hates it when his expression is full of hatred. Hate matched by hate. "Funny." His voice is low and dry. "I didn't have a reason."

She arches her eyebrows. "You can't just hit a person without any reason, Sirius. That's what murderers and criminals do. You hit me again, and I'll –"

"You'll what?" he snaps. "What will you do to me? _What_? _Merlin,_ Narcissa, this is what bothers me about you."

"_Excuse_ me? You slap me and then you have the nerve to say that _I_ bother you? _Me_?"

He laughs again. A cold laugh. "You think that there's a specific reason behind every single thing. You think that people cleverly calculate each of their actions before they perform them. Well, guess what, they _don't._ Sometimes people just act, and you have to be ready for that. You can't just sit there being naïve, thinking nothing will ever happen to you."

"You're the one who told me that I should always plan ahead, think before I act, try to –"

"Yeah, that's what people _should_ do, but they don't. People are idiots, Narcissa. Complete idiots."

She stares at him. "If I had known that you would've said all of this after I slapped you, I never would've done it."

He laughs again. It, to her surprise, isn't cold. It's playful. Warm. Funny. His normal laugh. "You amaze me."

She laughs, too. Her face still hurts, but she doesn't notice. "Weren't we just angry at each other?"

"I think so."

"That was tiring."

"I know."

"Do you mind if I take a nap?"

"Be my guest."

"Thank you."

And she falls sound asleep on his bed, still wrapped in her blanket, with him sleeping right next to her, wrapped up in his own blanket.

* * *

Three hours later, they hear a voice. Two voices. 

"I think there's a girl in there."

"No really, Remus? I thought it was Peter."

"No need to get sarcastic. I was simply trying to make conversation."

"What should we do?"

"What are _they_ doing?"

"Well, it's quite apparent that they're sleeping _now_, Remus. The question here is: what _were _they doing?"

"James, what are you suggesting?"

"I think you _know_ what I'm _suggesting_."

"Stop waggling your eyebrows like that."

"Sorry."

"So do you think we should … I don't know … wake her up?"

"Sure. You do it."

"You do it."

"You do it."

"You do it."

"Shut up, both of you," Sirius groans, rolling over. He accidentally rolls over onto Narcissa, who wakes with a start and sits straight up. She's still groggy and rubs her eyes as she looks around, frowning, irritated that someone's woken her. It takes her a minute to realize that she has an audience. Her eyes widen.

"How long have I been here?"

James and Remus glance at each other, then shrug. "A few hours?" James guesses. "You don't remember?"

Narcissa looks at Sirius. He's already looking at her. "Well," she says, gulping a little, "er – no."

James chuckles. "Well, you'd better get out of here pretty quickly if you don't want to get expelled."

She narrows her eyes. "I didn't do anything wrong."

"Sure doesn't look that way," James replies slyly.

Sirius matches Narcissa's glare. "You wouldn't rat on her."

James holds up his hands in defense. "Hey, you know I wouldn't." A pause. "But I think Elroy already has."

Sirius slaps a hand to his face, but Narcissa frowns. "Who's Elroy?"

"Our roommate," the three boys sigh in unison. They don't seem to like him very much. James has a look on his face as if he's smelled something putrid. "He's a bit loony, if you know what I mean. Stubborn as an ass, too. Always does what he wants, whenever he wants, without so much as a thought as to what – "

"What on _earth_ is going on in here?" a new voice demands, startling the four classmates so much that they all gasp.

The stern witch standing in the doorway has her hair drawn back tightly off her face, and her grim mouth is pursed in a thin line. Her eyes are both furious and perplexed as she looks between the students, one by one.

James is the first to speak. "Well … good afternoon, Professor McGonagall! Really lovely to see you, since I, personally, have always had a deep admiration for you and everything that you – "

"Quiet," she says, not looking at him. "You two." She points at Narcissa and Sirius, who are slowly scooting away from each other to opposite sides of the bed. "You're coming with me to see the headmaster."

Narcissa swallows nervously, daring a quick glance at Sirius. He doesn't move. "But professor, we weren't … er … _doing_ anything."

Narcissa blushes. "We weren't, professor. We - we wouldn't!"

McGonagall isn't convinced. She turns on her heel, storms out of the dormitory, and barks, "Follow me!" over her shoulder.

Narcissa and Sirius share a worried glance, untangle themselves from the blankets, and then follow McGonagall out of the room with their heads down in defeat.

"Remember," James taunts quietly after them, "all are innocent until proven guilty! And besides, you two have nothing to be guilty about! And if you do, Sirius, I expect a full and vivid synopsis when you get back!"

Narcissa shoots Sirius a glare as they're walking briskly down the corridor behind McGonagall. "James is really irritating," she hisses.

"At least he's on our side," Sirius retorts defensively.

Narcissa is still glaring. "I don't like him."

"I really don't care."

"Quiet," McGonagall hisses over her shoulder.

When they reach Dumbledore's office, McGonagall mumbles a password that neither cousin can hear, and then she herds them onto the staircase in front of her. They hurry up the stairs quickly, afraid to irk McGonagall by moving too slowly, and then step to one side of Dumbledore's closed door, waiting for McGonagall to let them in. She knocks once, announces herself, and then opens the office door without waiting for the headmaster's response.

He's sitting at his desk rummaging through what appears to three year's worth of junk. There are objects spread out all over his desk – most of which neither Sirius nor Narcissa can identify. Some of them are spinning, others are levitated in mid-air, a few are bouncing sporadically from wall to wall, and all of them are sporting the most random assortment of colours that Narcissa has ever seen.

Dumbledore is in mid-dissection of a square, blue, box-like contraption. He has goggles strapped on over his half-moon spectacles, he has red gloves decorated with little snitches covering his hands, and he's holding a metal tool in each hand – one of them looks like a miniature fork while the other resembles a silver bone. He looks up.

"Yes?" he remarks, tools paused in midair. "May I help you with something, professor?"

"A student of mine came to inform me that these two were engaged in a suspicious situation in Mr. Black's dormitory. I went to see if this student was telling the truth, and I found these two in Mr. Black's dormitory, just as was reported."

Dumbledore's expression doesn't change. "Well … I suppose it's comforting to know that we have honest students at our school."

McGonagall ignores this comment. "They were both asleep in Mr. Black's bed, headmaster."

"Ah." Dumbledore sets down his tools, removes his goggles, and peels his gloves off his hands. He then folds his hands calmly on his desk, directs his gaze to the two students, and –

And Narcissa is startled to see amusement in his eyes. "Well then," he says, as if discussing nothing more than weather patterns, "do you have any evidence, professor, that these two were engaged in suspicious activity as they were sleeping together in Mr. Black's bed?"

Narcissa blushes madly while Sirius suddenly gushes, "We weren't!" After a few seconds, he adds, "Er … _Sir._"

Dumbledore raises a silvery eyebrow. "Go on." His eyes are almost laughing.

"We were just tired," Sirius explains, gulping. "Really, that's all. I saw her in the corridor and she was wrapped in her blanket – "

"I was cold," Narcissa adds, nodding vigorously as she speaks.

" – yeah, she was cold, and we're both a bit sick, so neither of us were in Hogsmeade – "

" – weren't feeling well enough to go, and all I wanted was a bit of food from the Great Hall, but then my stomach – "

" – and I asked her if she wanted to come see my Common Room and dormitory, since she never had before, and since we were both bored, and had nothing else to do –"

" – and since we were both sick, so it's not like we'd be infecting each other – "

" – and then we were just talking – "

" – and there was the book – "

" – out of the window – "

" – and then he hit me – "

" – only because she hit me first – "

" – got so tired – "

" – just wanted to sleep for a few minutes, really, just a few – "

" – James and Remus, we heard them come in – "

" – but we were just sleeping, that was all – "

" – we're related, so it's not like we'd actually think about – "

" – or even contemplate – "

" – it's not even in the back of our minds – "

" – never once, for a single minute, ever thought about doing – "

" – I just wanted to take a nap – "

" – and so did I! Just a short nap!"

The friends fall silent, panting slightly, cheeks flushed, both very anxious and eager for their story to be believed.

Dumbledore seems to contemplate their explanation for a minute. He glances at McGonagall, who suddenly has a very similar expression to his. He nods slightly at her, then she at him, and then both of them, to the shock of Narcissa and Sirius, begin to chuckle.

"Very well," Dumbledore says, stroking his beard as he chuckles, "very well indeed. You both may go."

McGonagall holds the door open for them, attempting to stifle her laughter with a cough. "I'll see you both in class on Monday."

Once Sirius and Narcissa are safely back in the corridor, and McGonagall has left them, Narcissa spins around to face Sirius. To her surprise, he's laughing.

"And what's so funny to you?" she demands, hands on her hips.

"They actually that we – that you and I – that we – "

Narcissa blushes again, looking at her feet. "That isn't funny. We would never – I mean, we could never – "

The grin slowly drops from Sirius's face. "Well, I know, but I was just saying …"

"I know," says Narcissa, "but really, we couldn't … or … well …"

"Yeah," says Sirius, sticking his hands in his pockets. "Yeah. And besides, we're only thirteen. And it's not like we … you know …"

"No," Narcissa agrees, forcing a grin. "No, we definitely don't."

"Right, well, good," Sirius says, nodding.

"Good," Narcissa agrees, nodding back at him.

There is a silence.

"I should go," Narcissa says. "I have to … er … do things."

"Yeah," Sirius agrees, already backing away down the corridor. "Yeah, me too, lots of things."

They say a hasty good bye to each other and then hurry off in their separate directions, completely forgetting that Narcissa's blanket is still on the bed in Sirius's dormitory.

* * *

Christmas again, and everyone is at Grimmauld Place. For some reason, the food this year is terrible. Narcissa wonders if someone angered the house-elves while they were cooking. 

Bellatrix has moved up to the "adults' table" while Andromeda, Narcissa, Sirius, and Regulus are still sequestered at their usual "children's table." Andromeda sets her fork aside, looking grimly at her plate. Sirius, who hasn't been eating for the past twenty minutes, is busy constructing an architecturally-sound replica of Hogwarts with his potatoes. Regulus is sulking, as usual, and stabbing his pudding with his fork. Narcissa is staring at Bellatrix, eyes glazed, imagining all of the ways in which she can decapitate Bellatrix and make it look like an accident.

Andromeda, apparently reaching her very last thread of sanity, lets out an aggravated sigh and motions for the other three to lean in. They lean, she sighs again, and then she hisses, "This is ridiculous! Potatoes are not supposed to _crunch!_"

Sirius shrugs. "Yeah, but they make for excellent plaster, I must say. Look at the detail I was able to put on this wall!"

"I hate food," Regulus groans, glaring at everyone and everything in the room.

Narcissa says nothing. She's in the middle of forming a clever decapitation scheme involving toothpicks, whipped cream, and a wrench.

Sirius sighs and leans back in his chair. His brother and cousins do the same. They all look at each other, Sirius sighs again, and then he folds his hands neatly on the table and says, "All in favor of sneaking food from the kitchen when none of them are looking, say _I_."

A unanimous "I" is his response.

* * *

There is an unexpected and almost unbearable heat wave in March. Students are dropping left and right like flies. Those that aren't fainting are either irritable, drowsy, delirious, or some dangerous combination of the three. 

In the middle of a Transfiguration class one afternoon, Narcissa is too irritated by the heat to be interested in McGonagall's lecture. She's tried staring out the window, but looking at the sun doesn't really make her feel any cooler. She's tried making eye contact with Sirius, but he's busy conspiring about something with James. She's even gone so far as to consider passing a note to Lily Evans, who happens to be sitting next to her, but then she silently scolds herself for even considering it. She would never stoop to such a level, even during days of murderous heat and tedium.

She can't even remember how she ended up sitting next to Lily in this class in the first place. She vaguely recalls Lily sitting herself down on the first day, passing a friendly greeting, and then digging her nose into some book. She is always reading. Narcissa glares at her out of the corner of her eye.

"Miss Evans? Would you care to demonstrate to the class how this spell should be done?"

Narcissa jumps out of her reverie. Lily smiles, nods at the professor, then gets out of her seat and practically skips to the front of the classroom. If it weren't so hot, Narcissa would scowl.

Lily performs the spell perfectly, transfigures a glass into an apple pie, and accepts the class's applause with a blushing smile. Narcissa glances over at James and Sirius.

Both of them are grinning widely at Lily. James is even blushing.

Narcissa quickly turns her head away. Wondering why she suddenly feels so angry, she waits until Lily is back in her chair, then lets her arm stray too far to the side. It hits her inkwell, which falls abruptly onto the notes that Lily has been taking so carefully all throughout class. The notes are ruined.

Lily stares at her.

"Sorry," Narcissa says, feigning a look of utter guilt. "My stupid clumsiness …"

"That's okay," Lily says, looking dolefully at her notes. "They … they weren't very thorough, anyway. I'll just … I'll just reread the lesson tonight."

Narcissa says nothing. She's already staring out of the window again.


	13. The Nickname

Disclaimer: I wish Sirius didn't die.

Surprises at the bottom.

_"Things do not change; we change." – Henry David Thoreau_

**_Chapter Ten  
The Nickname_**

* * *

" – complete disgrace to the family!" 

" – can't believe you let this happen, Sirius!"

"I didn't let it happen, mum, it just happened!"

"And hanging around with – with – with _those_ types of people! What on earth are you _thinking_?"

"They're my _friends_, dad! I happen to like them! And they aren't half-breeds, as you so _nicely_ call them – they're – "

There is a loud slap, then a thump. Narcissa winces. She crouches lower into the corner in the hallway in which she's hiding, and she frightfully wipes the tears from her cheeks. The yelling has been going on for an hour, maybe longer. Sirius and his parents are in Sirius's bedroom with the door closed, and they've been inside for the entire time. There have been a few slaps and thumps and whimpers throughout the hour, and Narcissa shakes with terror every time she hears one of them. She's been waiting in the corridor the entire time. _Don't worry,_ Sirius had told her before he'd followed his parents into the room, _I'll be out in five minutes or so. They like to pretend that they intimidate me, but they usually get bored of it really easily. Once I'm out, we'll go out on the roof and throw rocks at Regulus while he practices flying, all right?_

Narcissa stuffs her knuckles in her mouth in an attempt to stifle her sobbing. The yelling match continues behind the closed door. The volume has increased.

"I DON'T CARE WHAT THEY ARE! THEY AREN'T FIT TO ASSOCIATE WITH MEMBERS OF OUR FAMILY!"

"YES THEY ARE! YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW THEM! YOU WON'T EVEN TRY TO KNOW THEM! THEY ARE GOOD, HONEST, DECENT PEOPLE, AND FRANKLY, I LIKE THEM BETTER THAN I LIKE THE LOT OF YOU RIGHT NOW!"

SLAP.

"YOU WILL _NOT_ INSULT OUR FAMILY IN SUCH A WAY, YOUNG MAN! I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS! FIRST, YOU GET SORTED INTO THAT _BLASTED_ HOUSE, WITH HALF-BREEDS AND MUDBLOOD LOVERS AND – "

"DON'T TALK ABOUT IT THAT WAY! MY HOUSE IS THE BEST BLOODY HOUSE IN THE SCHOOL! IF YOU COULD ONLY SEE THE MANIACS THAT ARE IN SLYTHERIN, THE THINGS THAT GO ON BETWEEN PEOPLE IN THAT HOUSE, THE MAD IDEAS THEY HAVE ABOUT – "

SLAP. THUMP.

"_YOU – ARE – A – BLACK_! YOU _BELONG _IN SLYTHERIN, AND, NO MATTER WHERE YOU SPEND YOUR DAYS DURING THE SCHOOL TERM, YOU _ARE _A SLYTHERIN, FROM BLOODY HEAD TO BLOODY FOOT! YOU WILL _RESPECT_ YOUR FAMILY, HONOR YOUR NAME, AND YOU WILL _STOP_ THIS TERRIBLE MADNESS THAT YOU'RE SPEAKING OF! YOU WILL CEASE COMMUNICATION WITH THOSE BOYS YOU CALL YOUR FRIENDS – THAT PORTER BOY, OR WHATEVER HIS NAME IS – THAT HALF-BREEDED PIECE OF SCUM – AND THAT WORMY LITTLE BOY WHO SHOULD HAVE BEEN KILLED AT BIRTH – "

"DON'T TALK ABOUT THEM THAT WAY! THEY'RE MY _FRIENDS!_ _THEY – ARE – MY – FRIENDS!"_

SLAP. SLAP. THUMP. SLAP. SLAP. THUMP. SLAP. SLAP. THUMP. THUMP. THUMP.

Narcissa slaps her hands over her ears and begins to sob freely, loudly, feeling so frightened that she can hardly contain herself. Her shoulders shake violently as she sobs. She rocks back and forth on her knees, back and forth, back and forth, hands over her ears, eyes shut tightly, her forehead hitting the wall as she moves back and forth, her entire being wishing that she could just block out the yelling, the thumping, the slapping …

It stops. She stops. The door flies open and Narcissa abruptly stops crying. She quickly sinks into the shadows so that Sirius's parents can't see her as they pass. His mother's eyes are red and swollen as Narcissa's undoubtedly are, but his father's eyes are cold and distant. Both of them stomp furiously down the corridor, not looking back once over their shoulders, not saying a single thing to each other.

Narcissa turns back towards the door. They let it slam on their way out, so it's closed tightly again. She waits. She's frozen – in fear, in confusion. She waits until she can't hear his parents stomping around any longer and then, very slowly, she raises herself up on her feet and wipes the tears from her eyes. She straightens her dress, tidies her hair, pinches her cheeks to even out the flushed tones, forces herself to stop shaking. Then, looking so composed that one would have assumed she'd just come from having tea, she crosses the corridor, puts her hand softly on the door's handle, and turns it.

The door creaks as it opens. She hesitates, then opens it further, and she sees that it's dark inside the room. It isn't too late at night – just barely nine – but Sirius apparently wants it to look as though he's gone to sleep. Very quietly, she closes the door behind her, making sure to lock it. It takes a moment for her eyes to adjust to the darkness, but even when they do, she doesn't see Sirius right away.

"Sirius?" she calls softly.

No answer.

"It's only me." Her voice is perfectly steady. It's as though she's never cried once in her entire life.

He doesn't answer her. He doesn't need to. She sees him, and she bites her lip to keep from gasping.

He's crouched in the opposite corner of his room, shaking. Shaking horribly, from head to foot. From her distance, in the darkness, she can only see his silhouette, but it's the silhouette of a person in pain. She hurries over to him and drops to her knees in front of him, trying to catch his gaze. His hands are covering his face – one of them is bloody around the knuckles.

"Sirius?" she repeats, barely loud enough to be heard.

Very slowly, still trembling ferociously, he lowers his hands.

She starts to cry all over again.

One of his eyes is already swollen shut. It's almost unrecognizable – black, blue, purple, brown, all at once. A huge, round, ugly, bloody thing. His bottom lip has been split and a trail of blood is leaking out from the side of his mouth. There is a large bruise forming on one of his cheeks, and there's a large gash across his forehead, just along his hairline. She suddenly notices that he's hunched over in an awkward position – they must've hit him in the stomach, too. He stares at her with eyes full of defiance, anger, and one emotion that absolutely terrifies her – fear. Sirius is never afraid.

"It's okay," he suddenly croaks, shifting a little. It's obvious that he's trying with all his might not to wince or groan. "Really, I'm fine. Just a scrape here and there. Go on to bed – I'll see you in the morning."

She stares at him, the tears still rolling thickly down her cheeks. "How _could_ they?"

He shakes his head. "Never mind it, Narcissa. Go to bed. I'm fine, really. I just need a minute."

She carefully brings a finger to his lips and softly wipes the blood that is trailing from the corner of his mouth. He involuntarily winces at her touch. "Leave it, Narcissa." His voice has warning in it now.

Wiping her eyes furiously, and with shaking hands, she straightens out the fold of her skirt, grabs part of the hem, and then tears off a long strip of the material. Sirius watches her but says nothing. Narcissa takes the cloth, folds it over a few times, and then takes it over to Sirius's bedstand. She dips it in the glass of water that's sitting there, and then she takes it back over to him, gets back on her knees, and softly dabs the large purple mound where his eye was once present.

"Bloody hell," he growls, pushing her hand away. "That hurts!"

"Just hold it there, then," she tells him, handing him the cloth. He does as he's told while she tears off another piece, dips it in the water, and begins to clean the rest of the blood off his lip. "I can't believe they did this to you," she whispers as she's working. "I can't believe they would do it."

He says nothing.

"Our family is supposed to be good," she whimpers, her hand faltering slightly. "Good, and simple, and upright, and aristocratic." The tears begin to fall again, and her hand is shaking so much that she accidentally drops the cloth. "What_ happened?"_ she cries quietly, angrily, desperately. "I don't understand! This wasn't supposed to happen to you!"

Sirius sets his cloth aside, scoots a little closer – wincing as he does so, and puts an arm around Narcissa. The other arm is still pressed tightly against his middle to stifle the pain there. She buries her face in the nook of his arm and cries into his sleeve, and he rests his head on the top of hers. "I know," he whispers quietly, again and again, softer and softer, until neither of them have the energy to repeat it. "I know," he says one final time, and his entire body shudders. "But all families have problems, Narcissa. Unfortunately for me – _I'm_ the problem in our family."

"I don't believe that," she whispers into his shoulder.

But she doesn't even know if he can hear her.

* * *

The next morning, Narcissa wakes with a start. She jumps out of her bed and hurries over to her closet, flinging out the first dress she can get her hands on. Her family is staying at Grimmauld Place for a week, and this is the third day of their visit. It's summer again, though Narcissa has yet to feel the joys of summer. The image of Sirius's battered face dances before her eyes as she dresses. She hurries out of the room and down the stairs as quickly as she can. 

Both her family and his family are eating breakfast at the table. Bellatrix and Andromeda are laughing about something while Regulus is glaring between them, looking suspicious of whatever it is that's so funny. Sirius's parents are seated at the other end of the table with Narcissa's parents, having an animated conversation about something that happened at the Ministry a few days previously.

He isn't there.

Narcissa takes a seat next to Andromeda. She doesn't say anything. She stares at the plate that Bellatrix slides towards her.

Andromeda notices her sister's uncharacteristic silence and raises her eyebrows. "Narcissa? Are you awake?"

Narcissa slides her plate away from her. "I'm not hungry."

Bellatrix is looking at her now as well. Her gaze, however, holds no warmth. When she speaks, it's directed at Andromeda, though her eyes remain fixed on Narcissa. "Don't mind _her_, Andromeda. She's just upset because _our_ company is so close-minded. She prefers company that isn't so _prejudiced._"

Narcissa looks at her. "What are you talking about?"

Bellatrix smiles. It's an evil smile, the smile of one who is conniving and knows it. "I think you know what I'm talking about." A pause. "Or, rather, _who_ I'm talking about."

Narcissa's glare deepens. "If you're talking about Sirius – "

Bellatrix laughs. Again, no warmth. "I never said any names," she says innocently.

"Of course I like being with Sirius," Narcissa snaps. "He's my _friend _– a concept that you, apparently, have yet to discover."

"Must we get into this _now_?" Andromeda sighs, pushing her empty plate aside.

Bellatrix ignores her. "Narcissa, really – you'd better watch out unless you want to end up exactly like him. Do you have any idea about how much trouble he's in right now?"

"Yes, well, that isn't entirely _his_ fault now, is it?" She can feel all four parents watching her as she speaks. Chin high in the air, she scoots her chair back, gets to her feet, and turns a cold eye towards Sirius's parents. "If you'll excuse me, I have other things I'd rather be doing."

"Narcissa!" her mother scolds, shocked by her rude behavior.

She rounds on her mother, eyes flaming angrily. "No, mother! I refuse to sit here and listen to anyone who enjoys insulting one of my _friends!_ Not to mention _your _own son!" she yells, positively glowering at his parents. Then, without another word, she turns on her heel and runs out of the room, up the staircase, down the corridor, all the way back to Sirius's room, where the door is still shut very tightly.

She tries to open the door, but it's locked. "Sirius!" she calls, rapping on the door with her fist. "Sirius, let me in!"

"I'm sleeping," is his curt response. From the sharp tone of his voice, it sounds as though he hasn't slept for days.

"Obviously you aren't sleeping if you're talking to me," she says back, getting frustrated.

"Narcissa, please just go away. I just – please – go away."

She bangs her fist against the door once more. "Fine!" she yells, getting angrier by the second. "If you don't want my sympathy, you won't get it!"

And she leaves him. When she arrives at her own room, she storms inside, throws herself down on the bed, and listens with an extreme, ugly pleasure as the door slams shut behind her.

* * *

Later that night, after dinner, she's alone in her room again. No one spoke to her at dinner, least of all Sirius's parents. She hadn't gone to Sirius's room again all day, nor had he shown himself all day. However, now it is getting late at night. He still hasn't come out of his room, and everyone else has long been asleep. Narcissa is sitting straight up in bed, as she has been for hours. Bellatrix is snoring loudly and Andromeda's even breathing can be heard coming from the other corner. Narcissa glances at the clock. She makes her decision. Making sure to be very quiet, she slips out of bed and tiptoes to the door. In one swift, silent movement, she is out the door and in the corridor. 

The night is cold. With a shiver, she creeps down the hall and down the stairs, hardly able to see anything through the darkness. Once in the kitchen, she sneaks around looking for food. She finds a bit of leftover dinner, as well as some cookies from the cupboards, and then she manages to get a bit of butterbeer – Sirius's favourite. With this food tucked in her sleeve, she tiptoes back up the stairs.

Sirius may be an annoying prat, but no one, she thinks, not even an annoying prat, deserves to starve.

She is almost to the top of the stairs when she hears it. A noise. The distinct step of a house elf.

She freezes. It's still very dark and though her eyes have adjusted, she can't see very far ahead of her. She doesn't have to wait long, however, because the house elf hobbles into full view, cracking a delirious smile as though catching Narcissa in some grand scheme of theft.

"Young Master's Cousin shouldn't be out of bed," the house elf observes, cackling like the ancient prune that he is. "Young Master's Cousin will be in great trouble if she's found out!"

"Young _Master_ will starve if he doesn't get any food," Narcissa hisses back. "Now let me pass, and don't say a word about this to anyone."

"Young Master's Cousin isn't Muck's master," the house elf goes on, glaring at Narcissa with a hideous smirk. "Muck doesn't have to listen to her if Muck doesn't want to."

"You'd better listen to me," Narcissa snaps, still in a whisper. "If you know what's good for you, that is. You may not want to listen to me, but _Sirius_ listens to me, and he'll believe whatever rubbish I tell him about you. He could set you free!"

The house elf abruptly stops cackling. "Young Master's Cousin really _is _what the Master and Mistress call her."

She stares at him. "What?" A pause. "What do they call me?"

The cackling starts up again. "Muck will not say! Muck keeps secrets for his Master and Mistress!"

Narcissa sighs, pushing past him. "Foul little thing," she growls under her breath. When she reaches Sirius's room, she can still hear the elf cackling maniacally at the other end of the hall.

The door is still locked. Narcissa sighs. She knocks as loudly as she dares, then waits patiently for a few seconds.

No response.

She knocks again. She waits again.

No response.

Certain that Sirius is awake and knows that it's her, she gets on her knees and pulls the biscuits out from her sleeve. She slides the other food into her pockets and sets the butterbeer on the floor, then takes one of the biscuits, sets it on the floor beside the goblet, and slides it under the doorway with a finger. She then waits again.

A minute passes. Another minute. Another. She thinks that maybe he really is asleep after all, maybe she was simply being too hopeful before, but suddenly, the floorboards creak. Someone is walking on the other side of the door. The footsteps stop just on the other side, there is another creak – as though someone is sitting down, and then the biscuit disappears from Narcissa's view.

She smiles.

She slides another biscuit under the door. Not a second passes before it, too, disappears. When she doesn't put another biscuit on the floor, there is a pause, and then the lock clicks, and the door slowly opens.

Sirius is looking a little better, even in the darkness, though he isn't smiling. Narcissa silently takes the food from her pockets and hands it to him, then holds out the goblet of butterbeer. His fingers brush hers as he takes it, and they're much colder than hers.

"You have blankets, don't you?" she whispers.

He nods.

She nods back. "And will that food be enough for the night?"

He nods again. "Thanks," he whispers. "I – " His expression is a strange one, as though he wishes to say something he cannot express.

"You're welcome," she smiles. "You know I would never let you starve."

He smiles, too. "I know. You aren't such a little _Ice Queen_ after all."

She stares at him. Something in her mind clicks. "Is that what they call me?" Her voice is barely audible.

His smile falters a little, but it is because he's chewing. "It is indeed." He pauses. "And don't think I was eavesdropping on you just now when you were in the corridor, because I wasn't."

She can't help it. She smiles again. "If you weren't eavesdropping, then how did you know what Muck was saying to me? How did you know he mentioned that nickname?"

He shrugs. He takes a sip of butterbeer. "I have exceptionally good hearing."

* * *

"Narcissa, darling, may I talk to you for a moment?" 

Narcissa looks up. Her mother is standing in the doorway of the bathroom, adorned in her bathrobe and slippers, looking rather anxious.

Narcissa sets her hairbrush aside. "Certainly, mother."

Her mother nods, enters the room, picks up the hairbrush and then stands behind Narcissa, continuing to brush where Narcissa left off.

"You have such pretty hair," she says admiringly. "Such a pretty colour, so blond. I wonder where you get it from." Her own hair is a light shade of brown, like Andromeda's, except that it also has a touch of gray in it now.

Narcissa says nothing.

"You've been to see Sirius, haven't you?" her mother asks softly, bluntly.

"Yes," Narcissa replies quietly. "He should see someone for his eye. It's still swollen shut."

There is a moment of silence. Then, "Narcissa, you have to try to understand." Her mother's voice is still soft, soothing. "His parents didn't mean to be cruel. They just – well – they didn't mean to be cruel. They felt that Sirius needed to learn a lesson."

Narcissa narrows her eyes. "And they decided that the best way to do this would be to beat it into him?"

"Yes," her mother says simply. Her voice is still peaceful, mediating. "You have to understand."

"I _don't _understand," Narcissa hisses. "I don't understand at all, mother. They didn't have to touch him. They didn't have to lay a single finger on him, but now they've rendered him half-blind!"

"You're being melodramatic, darling – try to see things from my perspective – "

"I've tried that, mother, and your perspective terrifies me. I do not want our family to become one of those families that mistreats its members just to maintain an image. That isn't right."

"Of course it isn't right, and that's why our family will never become one of those families."

"We already have become one of them! Have you seen Sirius?"

Her mother sighs. She sets the hairbrush aside. Moving so that she's in front of Narcissa, she gets on her knees, takes her daughter's hands, and looks straight into her eyes. "Let me try a different approach. Would you be willing to give me a chance to plead my case?"

Reluctantly, Narcissa nods. Her eyes are still narrowed.

"All right, then," says her mother. "Narcissa – do you remember the stories I told you about muggleborns and half-breeds when you were a little girl?"

Narcissa nods.

"Well, you certainly aren't a little girl anymore – I can't believe you'll be in your fourth year after this summer holiday – but do you still believe in the family's motto? In the message behind all those stories I told you?"

Again, Narcissa nods. "_Toujours Pur_," Narcissa recites. "Always pure."

"Yes," her mother says, smiling. "Always pure. You do believe in that, don't you?"

"Of course I do," Narcissa says at once, proudly. "I always have. And I've always supported every decision our family has ever made – until now. I can't support what they did to him."

"They're sorry for it, my little darling," her mother says, and suddenly she looks as though she might cry.

Narcissa shifts uncomfortably. "They are?"

Her mother nods. "Very sorry. They were just worried about him. They want him to have a bright future – the best future, the best opportunities. He's a brilliant boy – he's going to do something wonderful and successful with his life, and we all know that. When his parents thought for a moment that those opportunities were slipping away from him, they simply panicked. They acted wrongly. They _know_ that. I think that there's a lot of stress left over from when they found out about his sorting into Gryffindor – they've been a little worried ever since." She pauses, squeezes Narcissa's hand, and smiles. "We _will_ get through this, Narcissa. It's just a little rough spot. But we are a strong family, a good family, a _pure_ family, and we will get through this. We're the Blacks, after all."

Narcissa thinks a moment before she answers. She catches a glimpse of their reflection in the dimly lit mirror – both of them are wearing perfectly white, silk robes. She smiles. "Yes, mother," she says finally, returning her mother's hand squeeze. "We are a strong family."

* * *

On the last day of Narcissa's visit, Sirius finally emerges from his bedroom to watch her while she's packing. He's sitting on her bed, watching her walk back and forth between the closet and her trunk, saying nothing to her as he watches. 

She decides to speak. "My mother talked to me two nights ago."

He raises his eyebrows. "Is this a rare occurrence, or something?"

She rolls her eyes at him. "She talked to me about _you_, you idiot. About you and – and the fight with your parents."

"Oh," he says, realization dawning on him. "About how they basically beat me to a pulp, you mean?"

"Yes," she says quietly. "She told me that they're sorry for it. That they were just worried about you."

He says nothing. He's staring intently at the wall beside him, so she can't read his expression.

With some hesitation, she adds, "And … and well … quite frankly … I'm a little worried about you, too."

That gets him to look at her. "What?"

"Just be careful, won't you?" she says, pausing in her packing. "Be careful about – about who you associate with."

His turn to roll his eyes. "Oh _please,_ Narcissa, spare me the lecture. I've already heard it from everyone else in the house."

"I'm just saying that you could do better than James, Remus, Lily – "

"You don't even know them," he says bitterly, tossing one of her books aside. "You don't even _want _to know them. Don't think that I don't see you glaring at them in class everyday."

"They're just so … so … _annoying!_" she sighs, picking up the book that he tossed and throwing it into her trunk. "Especially Lily. She thinks she knows _everything_."

"She certainly knows a lot," Sirius retorts.

"So do I," Narcissa snorts. She wrinkles up one of her dresses into a ball and shoves it down one corner of the trunk.

Sirius sighs. "Narcissa, you're about the only person in the family that I'm not angry at right now – besides Andromeda – so I'd rather not argue with you about this at the moment, if you don't mind."

"Fine," she says dismissively, her back to him. She crosses her arms, staring into the closet even though it's empty. "Just one more question."

"Fine," he agrees wearily. "Go for it."

"Why do your parents call me the Ice Queen?"

He laughs. "And here I thought it would be something important."

"It's important to me!" she huffs defensively.

He puts up his hands. "Okay, okay, sorry – Merlin, you're such a girl."

She opens her mouth to retort again, but he raises a warning eyebrow, and her mouth closes.

"They call you the Ice Queen," he muses, "because of your appearance and your personality."

She frowns. "What about them?"

"Well, ice is white, isn't it?"

"It's transparent."

"Yes, fine, white, transparent, same thing. When you think of ice, you think of the snow, which, in fact, is white. And your hair is so blond that it's almost white, and your skin is a bit pale. And ice is also really fragile-looking and pretty, and you're – well – " He pauses. Narcissa is alarmed to see that he's blushing.

"You think I'm pretty?"

He shrugs off the question. "Of course I do," he says casually, as if it's nothing. "Anyway, that's not the point – ice is also really cold, isn't it?"

"Well, yes," she begins, "but Sirius, do you really think that I'm – "

"And they think that you can have the tendency to be a bit cold sometimes – or at least really proud, scornful … you know, like Bellatrix."

She narrows her eyes. "Don't _ever _compare me to Bellatrix."

"See?" he demands, eyes lighting up, finger pointing at her. "That's exactly what I mean. That was a cold comment."

"So that makes me the Ice Queen, then?"

He shrugs. "Pretty much."

She thinks a moment, laughs, then shakes her head at him. "I hope that isn't part of my epitaph. It's not a very nice nickname, is it?"

He laughs too. His eyes are sparkling. "Don't worry – none of us will be around to write your epitaph. My parents claim that you're going to outlive us all. You'll be the one to break all of our hearts in the end, you'll see."

* * *

Hey guys … I hope you're all well and enjoying the story and such. Thanks for your continued comments and questions … I love you all!

Here are a few things that you either wanted me to respond to or that I felt I should respond to:

Lizzy: Yes, I love digging into Narcissa and Sirius's relationship to see what chaos and tension I can cause. I'm pretty much basing this entire story on the quote I put at the beginning, the one where JK says that she doesn't believe anyone was born evil. I mean, like you said, there must have been some funny and – dare I say it? – heartwarming moments in the lives of the Black sisters. Especially in the life of Narcissa. Another person that you should really pay attention to in this story is Snape. I'm also really sorry to hear about that woman you knew … it seems like _everyone_ is getting cancer nowadays, doesn't it? I hope you can feel better about it soon … being the person left behind always seems to be the hardest thing. Thanks again for your continued reviews, my dear. You always bring a smile to my face!

Jack Robinson: Your question about Ted Tonks … well, I can't give you an answer, but I will tell you this: it was a very good question. – wink –

Kevikins: Cake! By now I assume they've come and gone to your school, so how were they? And … er … about my computer … yeah. I don't know. Things are busy lately with school and college applications and my personal life and whatnot, so getting the computer fixed isn't a current priority. Sorry. I'll see what I can do after November, once all my applications are sent in.

Claudiastar: So flattering, thanks! I do love writing in the present tense. Gives the story a more whimsical feel, doesn't it?

Lainia26: Actually, even though Sirius and Narcissa are cousins, romance isn't completely out of the question. In fact, it was quite common in ancient and medieval times for cousins to marry each other, especially in royal families, so that the families could remain in power. I'm not saying romance is going to definitely occur between Sirius and Narcissa – that's for all of you to find out – but I'm saying that it wasn't completely random for McGonagall to suspect something. And besides, Sirius is quite good-looking and charming while Narcissa is very pretty … you'll see soon that another character might be getting suspicious of those two as well.

Morganofthefairies: Lucius will most certainly be making an appearance soon. In the next two or three chapters, I believe. And trust me, he'll be causing plenty of entertaining drama! And yes, this piece is somewhat of a companion to my other one (The Ancient and Most Noble History of Black). Some parts will be exactly the same as in that one, but I think a few parts about the ending will be slightly different. Thanks so much for reading!

Dixio: Haha … everyone is so worried about incest! Well, I mean, I can't say that I'm an avid supporter of it … it's pretty darn wrong. Extremely gross to think about, too. However, like I said, Sirius and Narcissa's relationship is really abnormal … I mean, look at this last chapter: they're fine, then they slap each other, yell at each other, and are fine again, all within five minutes. Knowing this, I think it's safe to assume that absolutely anything can happen between them. Then again … absolutely nothing could happen, too. – wink –

Spastic Asian: The relationship between Narcissa and Bellatrix is a strange and complex one. It's going to take more than hating muggles for them to get along, I think.


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